I grabbed onto it and moved my hand up and down, slowly at first, then faster and faster....'OH FUCK MAN...YOU ARE SO GOOD, SOOO GOOD YOU FUCKING MONS...ER, YOU'RE DADDY'S LITTLE BOY AREN'T YOU' Tristam was screaming b now, how nobody heard us god only knows. 'Wait..' I thought, 'Did Tristam just say 'You're daddy's little boy....''' I had no idea he was into that kind of thing, well it was my moral duty to oblige. I pulled my toungue out of his crack and stopped beating his dick. 'Don't stop...'. You’ve seen me, other me’s, before. Why do you do this job? A shot of something in my drip. Bitch! Suppression. Oppression. You are willing me to die but taunt me by keeping my body alive. This IS me. Stop! Harder to concentrate. I can’t think. Bitch. Helpless and angry, a pitiful combination. And you just walk away. 27 June I gaze down the garden path and across to the trees beyond the pond. Sunlight and birdsong. I try to feel something. Anything. There’s no rage left, no anger. But there. More

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