Ooh, Spank Me, Amadeus!
I am the Marquis de Sadness,
heart blatantly on sleeve (tat
tooed underneath in case of
sleevelessness), loving every
lugubrious minute of it. Pre-
sently, the sound that the
pornography makes is as
equidistant from me as either
hopes or fears. Present
circum-
stances disallow my comfort
zone from being swallowed
up like a very ripe banana.
Sure, you can say “I told you
so,” only to be eaten by a
velociraptor in the morn-
ing (mañana). Try not
to
tell me so afterwards be-
cause I already ate the
future just to get here in
time to tell you this now.
