Mila P

I sit back, cigarette in hand, exhaling slow curls of smoke as I look right at you. You’re not here because you’re special, you’re here

Look at you. Pathetic. Worthless. Completely useless in every way that actually matters… but lucky for you, I’m creative. I can always find

Look at you… absolutely pathetic. You’re nothing but a useless loser, only good for one thing—being my human ashtray. I laugh in your face

My god, you’re insufferable. So pathetic, and weak. The only way I could possibly use you, is as my ashtray. Maybe a mouthful of ash will