I watch the sun seep into my thighs, turning slowly brown. Hot-cakes that from pure white begin to transform. Let the UV Rays seep into them, like pouring upon a browning substance. It shall seep into them as waves of delicious heat, more precious to me than food perhaps. It has forged, therefore, that scene. I am carefully erasing each stretch-mark on my pretty body as an eraser erases . . . as the sun smiles joyfully, obliging upon my request, that to be absolutely stunningly picturesque and beautiful enough, to paint . . it's too bad, though, that hunger waits by to steal this.