PLEASE SAVE YOUR DAUGHTERS FROM ME !!

(A humble request, not a warning.)

I write in the memory of Sylvia Plath many times. You see, everyone needs an obsession so that it all fits in someway or the other. So, all my metaphors have women in the background, long divorced from nature who killed themselves with grace. I think Virginia incarnates into my naked body for everyone out there to see while I hunt the intimate terrorists (by hunt I mean open their freakin' skulls) with pebbles. If me and Monroe had been teenage friends, we would have both fucked the counter boy if he would have refused to give us what we wanted. Hooks was born all too late for her social commentary to reach our overdosed brains. 

Hullo, I am not to be blamed because all my sisters were born mad before I even knew it and all my mothers are nothing less than walking carcasses. My girl tribe have long left their homes and have shitted and died, shitted and died, shitted and died with chosen men who are so like their own fathers that they might have worshiped their penises instead, for at least the rage could have been satiated that way. 

Please save your wives from me. Please keep your daughters away. Understand, I have a history of wrecking homes and I never considered myself worth enough to build one. My hips are wildfires on loose. I betray and I don't even regret it. One biggg time there was a rumour in my town that all the men in my home needed sympathy and pity for me having to be born to them. I cannot describe how happy I was that day to be an outcaste. Too much to drink too much, too much to rape too much, too much to kill too much. 

You see, what worth it is to apply a leash to a dog. The same way what worth it is to try tame and domesticate a prostitute if she lives so alone in search of her lover that when sometimes she is bored, she invites the dogs for a puerile sleepover.