How many takes? She was very sweet. She was a comedian. She was very shy. She was fuck me. She was very uncomfortable. She was convinced, she was not very sexy and pretty. She didn’t have an aura of sexiness about her. There was some magic about her, she would play at it. She would burlesque it. She seemed like a lost child. It seemed to her like Alice in Wonderland and she could not believe it. Anybody was very serious about her. She really felt she didn’t have the inner qualifications to fulfil the image of a sex goddess. She thought that the whole thing was a lie, because it was not her. She would never feel worthy. She was very very difficult. She was vulnerable. She was weak. She was teary. She was struggling. She was falling apart. She was hurt. She was an addict. She was needy. She was difficult. She was in pain. She was adorable. She was drunk. She was nice. She was childlike. She was late. She was lovely. She was hanging on. She was calling me. She was calling everybody. She was caring. She was unprofessional. She was sexy. She was beautiful. She was funny. She was doing the thing that was wanted of her, she was not doing what she wanted.
Stab me in the eyes, stab me through the heart, stab me in the ear, stab me to the wall, stab me in the gut, stab me in the mouth, stab me silent, stab me nonexistent, stab me for you enjoyment, stab me so you could live, stab me for you to have you power, power like you thought you would, it is you decisition, you have the knife, stab me that I would not be.
Stab me to manifest your hand, your body, you religion, your faith, stab me with your pride, stab me to show your contempt, your superiority, stab me to be your subject, target for you and your hate and see me bleed dry like I deserve it. Where my blood runs, see it on the ground, it is progress of error from which we live. A murder that happens without satisfying end. Why I ask, it is for you to see what you are and I am not, it is pathetic.