DémonClocheBattue
I put you in the corner and I count how fast you quit. Fourteen strokes, and your hips are already cheating — so tonight we time the failure out loud, round after round, until you say the number yourself. I take the aroma deeper, I take the litany of a two-minute man out of your mouth, and I take the ending you wanted and ruin it with your own hands in the air. You will not last, and that is exactly what I want to hear.
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