back to our roots

Daffni Gingerich


He swore to me he’d never love me anymore so I took a dump in his toilet and didn’t flush or spray. Shit stinks and we all do it. Still, I usually flush and pretend it never happened. Reminds me of the times I would sit on the toilet and listen to him ramble on about whatever serial killer he was obsessing at the time. I say ramble but I’m always interested in his words. The way he makes me hang on like some rich whore to her plastic surgeon. Peaking his head around the shower curtain, he describes the murder scenes in detail, how the blood was splattered on the walls and how the victim’s face was mauled and unrecognizable. How the killer made sure to keep all his victims teeth. Told me the killer pulled them out with a rusty wrench. He was holding a tooth brush and…

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