June Blood

Check the Closets for Goth Balls. Thou wilt know Them by their Smell. Not Musty, not White. Not Crystal. Aromatic, Night. Elusive as the Chupacabra. And just as Hungry. Said Goth Balls sayith, "We are the Wayith," like broken Jewels rotting in the Midst of the Heart of the Twinkling of the Sprinkling of thy Caste System of the Golden Olden. Gerunds be advised. Goth Balls are the Strike Makers splitting Strike Breakers whose Hegemonic Infestation is perpetuated by said Caste System. Segregate those Who segregate. Protect the Fabric. Clothe the Naked. Loathe the Moth. Then roll from thy Closets, from thy Dark Corners, Crawl Spaces, and Attics. Show Yourselves. For We are the Goth Balls.

We heart on the Eve of June. June Blood.