A/N: Dante really scramblefucking our brain but he doesn't really get into his usual antics/his character until after the worst of it (is kind of shapeshifting with the conversational topic. he does that, sometimes). some fucked up degradation and general fucked up shit here so tread carefully. oh and mentions of rape, murder, suicide, drugs. TREAD CAREFULLY.
whore. bastard. loser. scum. fucking psycho. drink my cum. kill yourself. pathetic harlot. beg for help. small special starlet. there's no one here to save you. bet you'll enjoy it if we rape you. weak. no matter how hard you struggle. bleak. that's your future, filthy street trash. i bet you like it when i throw you like this. i bet this knifetip is like a kiss. i bet guns make you drool. no matter the muscle or the tool. fucking sicko. and this too is all deep and hippie in your eyes, right? your stupid. worthless. hopeless. fight. die. you know you want to. die. control, we taunt you. die. it all does haunt you. die. the way you flaunt, you. crazy. fucking insane. you think a normal person would tolerate trash like you? slut thinks he's a fucking poet for getting all hot over blood. there's a fucking place for you, loser, and it sure as hell isnt the stage. its being stuffed in the fuckin trash. or dying drugged in an alley. or being killed for some sad sad debt you got into while playing every machine in the casino and tripping your dumb little head to mush. you think there's something fucking poetic in that? think it's fucking beautiful to be such a worthless loser? you're fuckin obsessed. you can't live without this shit, can you? i could hurt you a million times more than the fucks that made the mistake of not aborting you. and you'd beg for more, wouldn't you, you sick fuck? i could straight up stab you and you'd laugh like a crazy bitch. you'd try to fuck me. or the knife. doesn't matter to you, does it? you won't be satisfied until you're dead. you'll stand in front a freight train just for the thrill of it. just for that nice gorepic on The Forums. you know the ones, don't you? of course you do, you fucking psycho. you get all uppity about human rights and yet. you. love. hell. you love the dregs where you belong. you love the endless pain, you think being mindfucked as a kid makes you some fucking Socrates. you just want revenge and then you'll destroy yourself for good, loser? then let's fucking do this. one last dance. one last plan. one last manic murderer indulgence to sate your twisted mind. then i'll lay you down to sleep for good. since you're too much of a coward to do it on your own. don't worry, doll, i'll kill you pretty. and if you really want it i'll drug us up so we go straight to heaven. and you can say you didn't want to be this. but look what you're thinking now. me? that's just you. a you that simply exists separately in the same fuckfield of a conscience. you're no poet, darling, you're a loser. we will die. the sooner, the better. now let yourself slip. let it all fall away. let yourself bathe in the grotesque romanticism of this absolutely fucked hellworld. blood? you see blood? good. let yourself sink. relax. at the very least we don't take this lust out on any helpless children. we take it out on us. i bet you want to know what it feels like to hang yourself, next. so uncreative. but what do i expect from some fucked up mindless animal. relax and let me remind you of the glorious bloodshed to come. maybe if you become less weak we'll live long enough to really indulge. you'd love that, wouldn't you? to really truly bathe in the ugly, dirty, blood of the entire little universes you personally erased. no more conscience there. and it's all. by. your. own. dastardly. slender. hands. don't you want to hold the power of a god in your smooth, elegant hands, doll? don't you want to know the purest form of primal feeling. one with the world, you filthy trash. you, of all the strong and worthy animals there are. you will know the feeling of prey at your mercy. finally. i can feel your heart racing excitement, you know. you cannot hide the truth from me. after all. i. am. you.
