You thought you could get rid of me?

That your handsome face and beautiful eyes took me in?

You could swallow my heart and soul?

My mind?

My seed?

No.

I drunk all ten of those slippery nipples dry of my own accord.

I ate those roofies voluntarily.

I took your entire length of your sword willingly into my anal cavity.

Then I took your bullet to the back of my brain.

Your knife through the main vein of my cock.

Pain.

Death.

But at least I know your end game.

Cast down from my Bangkok Babel.

I must have sucked the cocks of a thousand fat Englishmen.

Gained six millimetres of carbon fibre in my skull.

Yet I’m here.

Alive,

Unforgiving,

Moonchild.