Fuck me fuck me fuck me.
Like, I am so fucked up.
Like, literally. Just do it please, my lust can’t last forever.
Like, fucking luck. Why the fuck are the all the same? Are they?
We’re re so fucked up. I mean we’re spoiled, bored, knowing-it-all, fearful, romantic, intelligent and interesting people. We’re so fucked up.
Fuck the poetry. Fuck me instead.
It’s like it’s has been waiting all this time, 26 years here, somewhere. Just to happen. Let it happen.
What will he do when he finds out? Tell me, what. You’re so fucked up. Are you even ashamed?