-one final way out, that is to purge these wicked thoughts, jump through the glass band-saw into open space, let it finally hit me tear off the skin and see if the bones come with it, cut out the ego and let’s see what holds up. If I remember how. If I can reclaim the grip I used to have. Some of that ignorance. Here we go, don’t worry about thinking it just because she can’t hear it, it is time to stop editing yourself down, just get it out get it all out. Right, right, okay, where did it go wrong, I don’t have the time to figure out where it went wrong anyway anyway if you were really here listening to this you would be bored already so I’ll get going. I was never honest. If I was ever honest, I would have been killed. Earlier than now, I mean. Living with my uncle all alone in the palace of bones and ash made me into the king of liars, the best you would ever meet. You you you you… Let’s see, what can I say about you that I haven’t already said? Well, possibly all that stuff again, and now it will sound genuine. We had the blind luck of meeting up and not killing each other. The self-destructive behavior helped: you trusted me, I decided not to kill you. What we were doing wasn’t like co-creating an empire or orchestrating the death of one individual or many individuals, this spiraled into its own boundaries, and so deliciously unpredictable, taking up my entire view so I didn’t know where the fuck my compass was. How long was it, two months? Before I shoved my tongue into your mouth. Where did I get the balls to do that? There haven’t been humans on this planet for over twenty years, and before that, I didn’t do anything but work. I’m not even sure if I did it right, fuck, I didn’t plan it beforehand and my breath, shit, how did my mouth taste? I planned on stopping but there was a metal arm around my head and a severe sucking motion keeping me planted there, and you tell you the truth I didn’t want to leave that, I could have suffocated then and it would have been a lot better than suffocating now. And your departure, classic, gone when I open my eyes again and I’m still clinging to the warmth of your body and the pain forming into a bruise on the back of my head. Strong arm. Reality was even worse after seeing you. I’ll never know why you did it, why you appeared to enjoy it, why you encouraged it. That’s what I’ve been told about females, they’ll choose the absolute worst thing for them just to prove that they can do anything. If I asked you why, could you tell me? Here’s something you don’t know: I celebrated the day we met, every month. If I couldn’t meet up with you, I would stay at home and fantasize about, heh, well, you know what I would fantasize. Okay okay okay I know what I want to say. I want to say I’m sorry. And don’t think this is just because we can’t, you know, but this is because you can’t do it with anyone. Not that I would want you to, just, okay, fuck this sucks. Back then, I must have, well, I was mad. I was angry at all you little brats. Anyone would have done. I picked you first, I don’t remember why. Maybe because you were the cutest. Or I was threatened the most by you. Putting you into that chamber and flipping the switch was once-upon-a-time a fond fucking memory, but now I look back on it and I feel sick, I get sick to my stomach and I try to block it out and I can’t, I can’t do it because more prominent in my mind, more than the night we met, was the night I tried to fuck you, fueled by a sort of lust that I had never known or that normally couldn’t be quenched by my own spit and three minutes of privacy and something to catch the mess. I didn’t plan on it ending so quickly, of course, I planned on drawing it out a bit, but I didn’t plan on lots of things and I didn’t plan on the roadmap of my failure, physical signs of what I had done. See, that’s the thing, nothing your bitch princess could preach, no matter how many times your rodents friends could win, the one thing that pulled me into line was trying to kiss your clit and instead hitting icy steel. Ending one inch below your umbilical scar. Everything set in stone. Signs that I was too quick and even the hedgehog was too slow. From now on, to remember the good times with you would mean to remember everything I have fucked up and prevented from happening because I mistook carelessness for freedom. I didn’t want to keep anything with me. And I went home and first I was angry at you like you had planned it to turn me around, but that look on your face, that look of curiosity, like what was I going to do next, what would I normally do with a human woman. And the anger transferred inward until he started yelling and I couldn’t lie to him anymore, I couldn’t, and I told him about us. I expected a beating, but he didn’t move. It occurred to me, we had just entered a new arena. The playing field had changed. He was going to have me executed. As soon as he regained cognitive control. But I got it back first, didn’t I? I don’t know how long I stood there, but long enough to have the jagged pattern of the glass burned into my mind. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have lied and given you the technology to turn you back to normal, make you all better, but it was too late for oops’ and oh my’s and all that shit and it was the only leverage I had left I couldn’t do it then I had to draw it out long enough for me to escape because the entire planet was looking to have me cut open and turned inside out, their only chance for a satisfying sense of justice since I robbed it from you ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh finally finally I’m being lifted up and it’s getting brighter and a light is turning one all of this is scary certainly but there is an oddly familiar flavor to it like I am returning to a place that I was an idiot for ever leaving