...God, those pearly whites


Poor, poor girl.
Please hold her.
Please kiss her.
Please love her.
She has no lips.
She has no soul.
She’s not like you.
She is no longer human.
But doesn’t she have a nice smile?
Doesn’t she have a concealed weapon?
Shouldn’t we kill her?
Shouldn’t we ignore her?
Shouldn’t we play pretend?

She could’ve ruled the world.
But, the fool… she fell in love.
What an insipid fucking retard, eh?
You’ll never hear her say she’s sorry.
So much bitter hatred, yet she found love.
She could tell you stories, but you don’t care.
Be honest.

I’m not lying. Believe me.
She could’ve been trusted.
She really could’ve been…
She was scary.
She could feel.
She was so ashamed.
She just wanted to be normal.
She just wanted to be numb.
She just wanted to be boring like you.
And you.
And you.

Foolish, foolish girl.
Grow the fuck up already.
Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?
So easy. So fucking easy.
So pathetic.

Cast in calluses and blisters.
Such a toxic little malcontent.
But she could’ve given the world.
She could’ve ruled it.
She could’ve kicked it in the fucking face.

She deserved every heart in her hand.
No matter how insignificant.
She commanded attention with a goddamn sledgehammer.
To think, all she ever wanted to do was talk.
Share her life.
Share whatever could be known as her soul.
She hated people who wished on stars.
She hated praying as an act of desperation.

All she wanted was to be loved.
But nobody ever knows what they want, right?
NOBODY EVER KNOWS WHAT THEY WANT, RIGHT?!
That’s why she invented the word, “misanthropy.”
And yes, that’s why he hated her.
He wasn’t the only one.
But he wasn’t the one.

Plane crashes are so sexy.
Suffering made her wet.
She fucked herself every time she saw someone crying.
She was jealous.
You have no idea.
You really don’t.

Those teeth enticed her.
God, she loved his smile.
God, she missed smiling.
And those eyes…
What a marvelous disguise.

She knew this was the last she’d see of him.
She was crying as she prepared.
Nobody will know which brand of tears though.
She regretted piercing herself for him.
She regretted trusting anyone.
She regretted not doing this sooner.
She regretted having something to regret.

She hates you for reading this.
Seriously.
You are now officially hated.
Now.
Feel special, you fucking imbecile.
…
Have you begun?

As she climbed the stairs, she remembered that night.
Everything was so perfect.
She thought, “Finally… happiness.”
She wept as he had his way.
The boundaries of sorrow and joy blurred further that evening.
She knew.
Her tears made him throb.
Her skinned knees, her raw knuckles, her purple wrists.
She bled, she cried, she came.
Her old teddy bear seemed to be looking at her.
Looking so disappointed.
Freshly penetrated. Now, now, she’s a woman.
…right?

She can’t tell.
He’d be mad.
He was afraid.
She’d leave him.
She’d hurt him.
She had to know.
She belonged to him.

Ouch.
That sux.
I’m sorry.
I love you.
I don’t know.
Wish I could help.
Wish I could offer another tender platitude.
I’m fresh out.
I have no more attention to pay.
My attention is expensive.
So pay me, baby.
Yeah, fuck you too.

Suddenly, she was wrong.
Suddenly, she was ecstatic.
She wasn’t happy at all.
She was numb for the first fucking time in her life.
She was content.
She hated everything, and that made her smile as she reached for her gun.
That old lullaby echoed in her mind as she closed her eyes.
Still smiling.

…God, those pearly whites.
You should’ve seen ‘em.
You really should’ve.

But remember, she’s a failure.
Such a beautiful, disgusting failure.
A divine fucking waste of flesh.
You should take a picture.
You really should.
It does, indeed, last longer.

But she’s changed.
He’ll be so proud.
She’ll be a success.

She cradled his pretty head in her unworthy hands.
Her dirty, filthy fucking hands.
You should’ve seen where those hands had been.
You really should’ve.

And then, there they were.
Those gorgeous windows to his fucking soul.
Or whatever.
He awoke as he felt the blade firmly gliding across his neck.
Wouldn’t you?

Suddenly, he was understood.
Suddenly, he was content.
He was then freshly penetrated.
Then, he could’ve been a man.
He parted his lips to cry out to her.
She merely placed her finger to her own and whispered,
“ssshhh.”

Her knife finished its glorious ballet, and he had begun.
To bleed, to cry, to cum.
At once. The last moment.
He knew.
Nothing mattered.
He was so proud.
He smiled, and she fell in love again.
Everything was so perfect.
You should’ve been there.
You really should’ve.

And as he slipped out of this cruel fucking world,
she softly sang to him:
“Here’s a lullaby to close your eyes.
It was always you that I despised.
I don’t feel enough for you to cry.
Here’s a lullaby to close your eyes.
…goodbye.”

Isn’t it funny, really?
She felt so original.
So unique.
Like a stupid fucking snowflake, right?
She knew.
She knew they’d laugh.
She knows you’re laughing now, fucker.
She still hates you.
And you.
And you.

All of you.

The smell of his blood was remarkably intoxicating.
Definitely something to write home about.
She wanted to fuck herself so hard.
But remember, she’s a failure.
A spectacular mess.
Yes, that’s who she was.

She could’ve loved him unconditionally.
She could’ve been trusted.
She really could’ve.
But you wouldn’t care.
Be honest.

Isn’t she selfish?
Isn’t she insignificant?
Isn’t all this so inconvenient?
Don’t you love her now?

She knew.
She had one friend left.
She had but to gingerly squeeze him, and she'd be in paradise.
Gently now, gently…
He was going to set her free.
Doesn’t it make you smile too?

…God, those pearly whites.
You should’ve been there.
You really should’ve.