I am dirty a sexy piece of filth I hate those stories about how people bitch about where they came from. It’s over it’s gone get the fuck over it. Who gives a fuck if you grew up in a hovel made of daddy’s condoms mommy’s rotten breast milk and the bones of your grandmother crunching underneath chairs? Yes you may be choking on a thick dick wishing it was a Carmel Lilly pop. Has he even told his wife? Oh wait, he can’t you killed her two weeks ago. Remember? You became her friend via social network and invited her out for drinks and made out with her in the bathroom. Just as she was about to come you slit her pretty little throat. You wore those gloves those pretty fox fur. Expensive like walnut flour. I love to kill people they die because I have the power to make them dead. It’s all bittersweet how I like my nights my chocolate my murders. I hate myself but I’m beautiful I am I have been told by many I have a pretty face the skeleton of an angel. I like to burn them stab them watch finger tips glow to hear them scream it’s my lullaby I can’t help it it’s my destiny my dust. My boyfriend has no idea I am in love with my boyfriend he is the police chief his name is Jasper Crow he loves me he said so.

It was Saturday night I had just sold a painting I wanted to celebrate someone needed to die so I went out in my half price Stella I never kill in Prada I can’t afford it. I ordered a double gin and tonic flirted with drunk eyes loose lips sweaty thighs hard dick black tongue and Mac and Jacks. Then I found him my victim a 65 year old fisherman named Dale who was depressed over losing his girlfriend in 1978. She drowned in a river I gave him a shoulder a stranger bone to cry on. He really needed to die Dale. It was the least I could do.