Love is an exorcism of angels... Heaven and Hell are not places, nor times, but rather shared experiences. It's a love whether dark or light, a passion whether of pleasure or pain, and there's a beauty to the ugliness, a smile hidden amongst the tears. Heaven is often defined as paradise; Hell as damnation. The two, while opposites, more often than not, end up being one and the same, especially when it comes to falling in love. 

So what happens when our Heaven falls in love with our Hell? When the very person who brings us every happiness and every joy, stabs and beats at our hearts, bruising our fantasy of "happily ever after"? What happens when we can't walk away because the pain of love is better than no love at all? When we'd rather die every death again and again, than spend one moment away from our heart's true content? Wytovich plays Virgil in a collection of celestial horror that challenges the definition of angels and demons, of love and hate. She weaves through tales of heartbreak and sorrow, through poems depicting lust and greed, as her words prove testament that Heaven and Hell can be one and the same, a paradise and an inferno. Her women, some innocent, some not, walk through the circles, fall off of clouds, deny their wings, and expose their hearts to demons and devils, to imps and to fiends. They turn their backs on everything they know, question their morals and their faith, all in the name of love, and together, the good help the bad, and the bad, help the good. Not every angel has wings just as not every demon has claws. 

Wytovich shows us that love isn't always the saving grace that we expect it to be. To her, there is no balance of darkness to light, no line between what one desires and what one gets. There's no choosing who we fall in love with, and just as love is often Heaven, it can as easily be Hell.