The things I wanted to tell you dog.
But you weren't interested.
You bullied me into submission.
My duromine trip only got worse when you decided to play a psychic vampire.
'Don't do a Kevin Cummings on me.'
He was a diet pill popper too.
You even validated my psychosis, 'fuck those dirty little niggar cunts over.'
You for one were applauding.
But I never saw you share any links.
I never saw you applaud the book.
I never saw a review on Amazon.
What I did see what a piss poor excuse of a man who would never back me up.
You had become the enemy, I thought, as I pissed on the vegetable patch.
The Dragon Lady would come down every day to water the garden.
It was her way of seeing what the tenant was up to.
She was so pig ugly that there was no fucking her.
She was committed to the foul breathed Eric who was dying a quick death from cancer.
Not quick enough in my books.
I pissed outside more and more towards the end as I upped my dosage.
Gartland was cut out of the conversation, so there was no crap coming out of his mouth and grooming me for a loan.
His care factor was about zero until it spiked one day, when I offered him 100 grand to edit all my books.'.
