I'm sitting in the pink pajama bottoms my mom gave me when i was 15. They still fit. I hate them, but i wear them. They're caked up around the crotch with various foods i dropped, and old sperm that i never wiped up. My sperm's sweet. A lot of that sperm's there now because of Mr. Smother, so i like it. I like to break it off in chunks and grind it inbetween my fingers thinking about him, then i feel disgusted with myself, but i like feeling that way for him. I'd like him to take a shit on my face while i lay on the sidewalk and everyone crowded around and laughed. He'd point at my face and tell them how i deserved it, and they'd laugh again in agreement with him. I'd feel good. I like to feel good, especially when i pretend i'm someone else.