It’s over. I’m not finished. Impulsive impressions of you scolding me. Teaching me, molding what I do. This is what I have been looking for. This is what I sought out to find. I demand that you give in to me, I demand. Rancid parts fit together with abnormal ease. The aroma is harsh and beats through the walls, proving to everyone that it’s valid. Obscene tendencies are now accepted and I imagine volumes of new boundaries to cross. Close the curtain, leave it undone. Dirty, bad, horrid, seamless sex. Imperfect faces being squashed up against my hand. Slam me into rough positions, contort my lust. I’m okay with this, strangely. I’m in love with this situation.