I had been played, played a fool by a K9 whore, like those silly cucks at the strip clubs. I was smart enough to have my guard up against them but never have I seen a dog of the night; so suave and charismatic, to fool me into giving him my soul.
As I sang the crowds surged towards me. My fingers had their own existence. My wrist was a passage from above and my voice made the Arabic Sea feel small.
I sat on the couch alone; in the house I bought with my supposed soul mate and watched the panic of presence reach me until I had to move, walk anywhere, take your clothes off and sit beneath the cold water and scream, smash the photo frame against the bedhead. Every item in the house told a sad story.