I really like you. You're a nice person, and you've been cool, and it's been great, okay? But it's supposed to be fun. Now it's a serious thing. I know this sounds corny and silly, but something in me felt…entitled.
You think this is a love affair? A relationship? Wanna roll around the floor like lovers? You've gone f****** mad. You don't know how to love. You have never, your whole life.
You know i'm livin' this room with buds of cigarettes, bland cold food, a sticker from Pizza Express; keeping notes of the thoughts that fly down…wat! You think you're Virginia frigging Woolf! People think they know what it is to lonely but to the drip, drip of long-haul, no-end-in-sight solitude, they know NOTHING.
I've been up to my head all my life, a decent one. This voice inside me kept saying "why shouldn't you be bad, why shouldn't you transgress? I mean, you've earned the right." Go to the Streets? Join the local pubescent prowls?
You s**** MAN!
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