My apathy trumps your moral progression, you live life in a shell too, and yours is aided by staggered regression. Suck that thumb, swallow that cum (and everyone’s reassuring words), and call me when you’re too fucked up to come (to where we are).
I will hold your hand and we can make a plan. But for now, reflect on your insignificant existence and plead for repentance. You’re just as awful as me, but you don’t wear it so transparently so all the world can see. (I’m brave, you’re shattered dust, ashes of make-believe robot rust).
We can talk and chill and I’ll pretend you don’t get your thrills (off of killing insects for fun). Wait, I’m not done.
I’ll stitch your suture. Sew you up and be your preacher. Say comforting words so loving, you never dreamt of being heard (no one will ever love you). Heal you and lead you back to your scene-ster herd (like the lemming you are).
You need me.
And that is when I will stop needing you. Smoke your soul and swallow it too. Engulfing your life and carving criticisms in your skin with the dullest knife.
Is what it took to leave you.
How fucked do you feel? Cuz I fuck till it devastates. I always told you, now tell me, how do I taste?
I taste just like you, only less imaginary. Here’s to sucking down your sour salt and all your fantastic tragedies. When you die, know this, your coffin has to be custom-made to fit such an unreasonable travesty.
Will you ever be loved the way those you loved… loved someone else. I hope you rot in hell.