What did you think? That you could prattle on about your pain/guilt and be absolved? That covering yourself in shit (self-hate) would make you invisible to me?
Did you relish the thought of duping me while your skin got off? Did you really think fucking something up bad enough could erase it from spacetime?
Oh. Right. You can’t remember (own up to or be responsible for anything) because you drink yourself to the point of blackout. On the regular.
How are your dreams these days? Trouble sleeping still? When you don’t participate in reality, the dream world has its own way of excising you.
Your cock was not that great.