Look at us, what perverts we've become. Seething through time, hiding our mysteries, stealing glances from the mirror, what have we made of ourselves, baby! Long ago, when the day began and we were innocent children, I believed in fairies and stars. That picture is now lost in oblivion. And now, how with years, we have constantly drained that naivety out of our systems, effortlessly, with the lone whim of surpassing petty desires.

Did you ever imagine this? Nor did I. It's scary, how I've become somebody I would've failed to recognize a few years ago. And I have become this, in your shadow. Chasing you, in and out of the light, I have only bought myself so much shame that I cannot bear to look at you, or look away.

This just cannot be true. This is not me. And you're not you. This must be some devil's dream. Because we couldn't sink so beneath ourselves. Sometimes I convince myself so. But then I wake up the next morning, with my mind stepping back into every moment of the ignominy that last night was. And I can't help but lie down, let my shamelessness seep into me as tears would seep out.

How deep are we now? In this slur, I can't find my feet. All I can feel is the warm gasps of your breath and tickles of lust that suck me in. And precisely that moment, I give in. To the animal inside. And let go of shame and let me be me. For I have become what I have become.