(- - - - Izz Kon Bizznitch! RepRizzent! - - - - )

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Quote of the Dayyyy! (I sang the last part so you would get more excited about it.)

I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." --Edgar Allan Poe. (I love this man's madness.)

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Name: Kaylyn. Don't fucking forget it. Oh, no. Wait. That's too harsh. Sorry! Sorry! Bad impression. You can call my Kayy. Or Kiku. Because you're a friend : )

Age: F-F-FiiiiftEEn! (I don't know why I did that.)

Birthday: October 10th

I wrote this poem in the boredom of a Thursday night while watching That's 70 Show. I was actually satisifed with it and decided to share is with you all. Even though I know you guys don't really care xD

The Boy With Red Hair

The color of his hair was red, but what is the color of blood?

A pitiful sight he was, but knew the emotion of love.

He fell astray to wicked ways

And grew tired of long days.

The awful things those people would say

But, he would still trudge of through those damned long days.

Words are bitter in the empty Feburary winter.

And with his head held high facing towards gray skies

He stared at God with a confidence and was more than willing to die.

His crimson hair that struck so much fear

Was cut in vengance, but remains so dear.

Superstious lies fueled that devil's pride

For he remained alone as his death was written in stone.

That boy's hair was red, but what is the color of blood?

Those people know that an angry soul

Certainly does bestow

His vicious revenge in snow

Stained with red...

The Plot of this Poem: It's as desolated and dark as it sounds. A prejudice town of people think this boy's red hair is the work of a demon and decide to kill him in their own fears. His willingness to death was because he could not stand those words of hate, but returns from the dead to distribute his revenge to those who had killed him by murdering them and painting the snow in their blood. Yeah, I'm pretty fucked up.

Profile:

What the shit is up? Everyone, I have come to realize - like sex and Twilight - that long profiles are overrated. I now like keeping things simple instead of complex, which I use to do until I found Jesus. (Um, yeah, not really.) I'm not really good at describing myself, just that I'm very into misery and music. They seem to compliment each other, ne? But, no. I can be happy. Actually, I can be so happy that rainbows shoot out my ass. (Too much information?) I detest spagetti, Sammie Hagar, being short, people who talk like they're texting, and teen slasher movies. I love agruing, art, Zach Braff, watching stupid people do intellegent things, Starbuck Carmel Frappicino (or Pumpkin Spice dependind on my mood) not sitting properly (sort of like L on Death Note), The Joker (Defiantly Heath Ledger), talking in foreign accents (Mostly Swedish. Yah-yah. Or Brooklyn. Sort of like New York/Italian Mafia) and, of course, writing.

I have to say that I'm desperatly addicted to the Spiritshipping pair of YGO GX. I guess since their relationship is so natural it's just easy to write about them. Things that flow in a genuine pace is always simple to distinguish. (Was that a little too poetic?) And I kind of have a habit to totally twist and bend their carefree, bubbly love into dark desolation and inner turmoil that causes them to act foolishly and be in a forver state of anguish. Again, I feed off misery. And it's a blast to write : ) Why I only write about this couple is because it's my comfort zone. I like being inside the zone. It's a terrilbe dependency disorder. But, thankfully I am slowly gaining the courage to write about pairings other than the Judai x Johan (Jaden x Jesse) pair. I'm actually starting to write some Bleach and maybe a little FMA. Possibly the original YGO and Death Note, but I'm still reading other stories to get the gist of the natural vibe of the pairings I want to write about. Which I know I shouldn't post anymore stories right now since I have about four I still need to finish, but hell, it's my choice I guess. I can do whatever, but I always try not to disappoint reviewers/readers by discontiuning stories...I just forget about them. Like that will make them less pissed. Again, another horid tendency of mine. So, I think that's it. Did I miss anything?

My midget accomplice: Nope.

Thank you, Wee Man. I'm outty.

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To All!