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June 22, 2002
fear my truth, mssrs. mendola and haverstraw
so what is there to say? "please don't grind your teeth when my penis is in your mouth." but these conversations get old. and no matter how many times i walk behind your girlfriend, i can't think of anything but raping her. she's one crazy bitch, but i'd get her to cry. do you mind of i picture you in a collar? with her hand on the leash? you crazy devil! who'd a thunk you liked pain that way?
i remember when we met. you wasn't but seventeen yet. you had these dreams and somewhere down the line you told them to the wrong girl. but nobody else knows you enough to say so. and i guess i sacrificed my friendship to dare.
she's the kind of girl i'd hug tightly just to hear her bones crack. she's sugar-coated smallpox. she's a pretty torpedo. she's hungry and she's sucking the soul right out of your urethra. like cats and babies, don'tcha know? sucking it right out of you. and you come to me with your cheeks glazed and want me to tell you that anchovies smell like love. hey. i like anchovies, too, but i can't imagine how you see your old lady naked and still manage to work it. does she smell good enough to cover up a steaming silver platter of regret?
she's a tractor beam, my friend. she's a minefield in a tunnel, she's a big therapy bill gone bad.
SUPERMILK is an expert Squeezer of Lemon, Thumber of Nose, and Navigator of Moronity. His mark can be found on the Bedpan of Hammurabi, the forehead of Dagonet, and the office stationery of Jorge Bourgoise. Additionally, he braised this tender piece of monkeymeat at 3:54 PM
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