She wasn't productive anymore. And love was more about conformity than sincerity. The days were deadly fumes floating around the ambience. Rotten meat, a familiar stench. Violet clouds wrapped with green velvet. Pills, pills, pills and more pills to cure what the other pills did. She hit her head many times before and the marks on her wrists looked like lil' highways going nowhere. Pills, pills, pills. Few stabs here and there. Bruises covering the naked beauty. She had to be strangled and cut wide open, so he could finally orgasm. The cops never understood how that bottle of wine was inside her rectum. Anyway, despite it all, the priest said she was in Heaven. The end.