[untitled]

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i'm coming undone, unfurling at the seams, screaming and retching as wordless bile sprays from me and allows for a tasty snack. i realize that the stain will never come out, the mystery stain full of hopes and dreams and nights of mindless sex when he pushed up my skirt and fucked me hard with his scum-shiny spatula. but mostly we would use the curling iron and i would scream fuck fuck baby do it harder whilst giving birth to offensive piles of mucus of epic proportions.

sometimes he liked to pretend that i was a girl and it made it easier oh baby just give me one more fix and feel like cumming when you fuck me up with fine china sweet like honey and blood and piss. but i hated wearing the skirt because i had to go commando and it always made it easier for him to oh fuck fuck baby so close, so close i can't stand to--

i remember when i was seven i was walking home from school and an older boy came from behind and pulled my pants down in front of my friends and the all laughed at me and i wanted to die. i saw a dead rat on the side of the road once and poked it with a stick. everyday for one whole week i would check on it and sometimes poke the mushy brains that ran out of its crushed little skull like half digested mexican pizza. i would never touch it though, i never had the guts, i've always been like that, that's why i let him spew his creepy sick drippy fluids all over me.

he's looking at me even now, with that happy fuck gleam in his eyes that tells me fuck fuck fuck baby i'm gonna give it you just the way you like that bitch get down there and do a good job and don't even think about coming up until you're wearing a cum white mustache.

i don't want to. i try to tell him but he just grabs me by the hair fuck don't you see you're making me hurt you just be a good boy and there you go so good. but i don't don't don't want this and i can't take it and before i know it he's screaming and liquid is squirting everywhere and my mustache is red, not white like he wanted but he's pissed now, crying and shrieking and trying to contain the splatter thick mess of blood that wriggles its way through his fingers and onto the floor.

then i notice the skin in my teeth and want to cry too.

i remember once when i was nine and momma and i were at the super market and she was taking too long and i had to go go but she told me to me a god boy and wait, and i tried, i really tried to be the good boy and wait and shut up and listen but i couldn't hold it and before i knew it i had went in my pants and people were laughing at me and momma was so embarrassed that she turned really red and would not speak to me.

oh god, momma, i'm so sorry.

time to go. time to run.

oh my god, what have i done?

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fin.