A Nightmare Of Tender Simplicity

My money is home-born, her pretty brown paper packets are factory-born. I'm desperately screaming and she is serene. I use my six rainbow foil gilded wings to maneuver the herpes hills of this town, and she proceeds by foot like any moderately-informed visitor. I regularly spend fifteen thousand dollars on single chicken eggs coated in dirt and she sails the world for months at a time on profound conviction cruises, using sufficient discretion of course. But in hopes of blessing my appetite for domestic family situations, I sought her out, hunted her down and made her mine. If you asked my friends, they would likely say that I am no more harmless than a snowflake pattern, but they know not the strength of my resolution, apparently. I had her thighs removed, but other than that, have kept her mostly intact, even after all these years.