I'd like to meet:

I'm the melody stuck in your head.

We'll live in fear, for coats they may shear; the fleecing of a fleeting flock. You may have my wool; you may have my locks. My voice, you have not.

You hide your fangs so cleverly, dear.
You sing your songs so prettily, dear.

It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep.
'Cause my dreams are bursting at the seams.

Live like it's the style.

We are all own devils.

Name:Whitney!
Age:Eighteen.
Status:Flying solo. ;]
Ethnicity:Crazy. o:
Music:I like it, yes.

I'm the fervor of the fever you can't sweat.

"I can see to the heart of my lover; his splendid design has nothing to do with sickly sentimentalities. Darling, I love your spleen; I love your liver; I adore your pancreas, and the line of your femur excites me."

I'm the garments stuck to your skin, drenched and dripping wet.