My name is Ruby Ann McCool, and I am 12 years old. Just like my initials R.A.M.:
I am an Aries. My Sun is in Aries, DUH, and my Moon is in Scorpio.
I am a powerful female force, all must treed softly when reckoning with me!
I live in a sleepy little city ( I'm being nice - it's really boring as Hell )
in the pine forests of East Texas. I have bright red hair that is very long, I
never let anyone cut it, so its fiery tips burn at my butt!
Excuse me, I have to scratch my BUTT, it itches. heee heee
As you can tell, I have a lot of Irish blood in me.
My skin is ghost white, I never stay out in the Sun. I'm a Vampire by the way.
*Bite yur neck*
We " Carrot Tops " ( I hate that description! ), tend to be plagued with freckling;
so I vowed - no, an oath in blood - to keep my face as freckle free
as possible while I was still a mortal.
My best friend, he's 16, and he says that the few freckles I do have make
me look cute. ( CUTE : like I'm some sort of spotted puppy or something! ) I'm an
orphan, my parents are dead now.
( I don't want to think about that right now; it hurts too much. )
I use to live with my grey hair, plump, widowed Grandmother. But, now I live
with my best friend and is girl friend and my pet, a short black hair tom-cat, Arioch.
Arioch means ' Fierce Lion ', and he is named after the Demon of Vengeance.
I write my poetry on my laptop computer notebook in the cemeteries.
Death always inspires poetry.
"Through the looking glass I spy,
there before mine eyes,
the reflection of my tender, young, virgin flesh.
From atop my crown,
streams of amber fire cascade down my back,
as if I were the land of Hades,
and my hair, a waterfall from the River of Fire."
( I think that I'm confusing theologies, but I'm only 12, so who gives a fuck? )
Well, anyway. If it were not for my long streaming hair to give me body, there
would be nothing of me. My friends call me anorexic; but I'm not,
I am only thin and frail. A fair maiden in the truest sense.
I am content with my size, bony as I may be. Like unto Death, I am!
The windows to my soul, mine eyes are as emerald green as the Isles
from which my ancestors had set sail from. Eyes to charm the beasts that
refuse to be charmed, and eyes to weep bloody tears in the middle of the night.
Eyes to spy the cold, cruel world in my own unique way.
My complexion, white as a ghost. My color like my virtue, pure as the driven snow.
Oh damn! I have fallen to the temptation:
Le Satan De Clich�. Here a freckle, there a freckle, yet not too many.
Like blood drops in the winter snow.
With soft finger tips I gently touch my nipples.
My breasts, more precise my chest, it is little more than that of a chubby boy's.
Alas, some boys' chests I've seen, frolicking in the cool waters under the
hot Summer Sun of times gone by, whom I have envied when I were mortal.
Some would mock me, calling me " Flat Chested ", nea say I, for breasts I have indeed.
Some of my friends that are of a swarthy complexion,
and develop more rapidly than I, call them, " Little White Girl Tits ".
Hmmmm? Perhaps I should glaze them in icing, for they are like unto cup-cakes,
with light brownish-pink cherries atop.
My ribs hardly show, my tummy smooth, and my navel pierced with a single gold
band. I'm an inny, ( outties look so strange to me ). My thin legs are smooth and
silky, I keep my under arms free of hair. Upon my pelvic bone,
a little red flame of hair. A red arrow head pointing the way to my virtue.
Pity, for my sleekness has given me hardly an ass to follow behind me.
I move my hair in front of me so as I favor a red " Cousin It ",
I unveil only my face, a baby peeking out from the streaming flames.

Email me on:
[email protected]

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