Why can't I escape my past of self-loathing? Drowning in sweat. Choking on someone else's Lust for demons tears me up inside. But I love the way it grips me. Climax from jealousy.
Her flesh knows another man (twice my age). She grips him so desperately. Twist and they curl as their bodies melt into one. (Fucking like pigs). Moaning in perfect unison.
They tongue at her beads of sweat. She claws their backs like a feral cat. I came at the thought of their love affair.
She's fucking them and not fucking me. My hateful orgasms of jealousy.
(Reversed sample from the 2003 movie "The Singing Detective" with Mel Gibson speaking)
Weak and perpetually scared. In pain and unprepared to know what it's like to be loved as is. Controlled by endorphins and fate. This epiphany came too late. What a shame. Oh, well. I guess you'll see me in Hell.