Father mosquito drank my blood and promised me that there was a lot to live for: ***, money, women, love, food, water.
But *** is only worth the ten seconds after I ***: the ten seconds where my body breaks but not my heart.
And money is an idea that belongs to someone else. So, the money I have never really is mine. The things I need, I'll never have. The things I have, I'll never need.
I do love the softness of women, Father Mosquito. You have understood me once.
It's just underneath my skin.
But you say love and no love is as important as self-love. No lips stitched into mine is worth the feeling unless I understand my worth, and you're currently ******* it dry.
What happens when food loses its taste? And water is no longer cold? What happens when my body fails me? Drink my blood since it is yours, too, father.