Squidcrab

I streak over my skin again and again. I hope it will break, finally it gives. The blood comes from criss-crossed lines. If you ever ask me, I'll answer with lies. It started with displeasure then came unsatisfaction. Until I finally realized I held no true attraction. My hair's a mess, as is my life. My skin is marked, with nature and knife. I wasn't good enough for him, nor am I for me. Every night I starve myself, limiting my feed. I wear short-sleeves and hope I'm asked where the marks are from, why they last. I have yet to hear the questions, so I move along in silence. The smile on my face merely proves my own

Fantasy… well, apple. A golden dragon sat upon an equally golden pile of coins, blending in to the mass. He stared musingly at the small, bright red orb within his claws. A low growl shook the pile of coins, causing a few to tumble down and down and down, then the faintest clink was heard. The dragon suddenly sat up, a smile twisting across his face. His claws began to fold and curl, shape and twist, until all that remained was a glowing red apple. He reached into the pile of gold, shuffling around, then smiled again and withdrew a tiny green orb as well. He rolled it between his claws, then quickly smashed it flat and attached it to the sma