You are such a
little boy. You tell me to ‘
f off’ and make fun of my
cussing. Wouldn’t you love my
smoking? What if I blew a big puff of
cancer in
your pricky little asshole boy face?
Spread my legs and did a dance on your table? What if I told you to
fuck me in your closet with the lights out so we could pretend we were in a giant mouth,
being devoured as we writhe. Wouldn’t you like that? Wouldn’t you love it, you prick? Would you like my
badmotherfucker boots and the babydoll dress up to there? How would you scream if I threw
bourbon in your face and then licked it off your tongue,
sopping liquor off my breasts?
You are such a little boy.
Would you mind if I drew blood next time we kissed? You know what these teeth are for you asshole you asshole you
asshole.
You are such a little boy, and I am such a little girl.
Don’t I look the part? But behind this I am fucking you in my mind, and this painting is a picture of that.
Tattoos and scars. Of your snide little face and your
pervert bitch attitude when you take off your shirt in the night.
Hold still. I’ll cuss all the
fuck I want to. This painting is a picture of you. I’ll put out this
clove on your arm all the while that you’re screaming and those big
blue eyes are weeping. And you know what? You
know what. You know behind all your protests you can’t wait for me to
come again.
Hold still. I’ll paint this in red. I’ll paint your body and you’re fantasizing me
naked, dripping, hurting, and
all the things that you never want to be.
F you. Little boy. Stupid
fucking little boy, it’s
Fuck You. Fuck
you. NOW.