Poor excuse for wasted space

Knew you were volatile from the get-go. Even if your reputation didn’t precede you, it’s written loud ‘n clear wherever one bothers to look.

Talk about despoiled beauty. Like a fucking ‘WARNING! WARNNG! WARNNG!’ sign, all OVER what I assume was once a reasonably attractive body.

Well, neither your body – nor any thoughts of attempting friendship – (much less a modicum of civility, of which you are woefully incapable) fools me anymore. No illusions left; no doubt in MY mind how wasted you are. Oh, presumably you’re good for a quick fuck but, after that?

…toss off ‘n toss ya. What other reason would there be?

All I wanted to do was be friendly – yes, even with the cautions I’d received about you and your fickle and capricious ways. But what do YOU do? Get all emotional and pissy, as is your wont.

‘Don’t talk to me! Stop commenting on my pix! I’m gonna sic one of my *bitch boys* on you!’

Blah blah BLAH…fucking *cunt*.

Fuck YOU! Go to hell! There’s a table (or a rack) awaiting you there.

And it’s well-deserved.

Explore posts in the same categories: dark thoughts

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