“Do you taste riches, Colin Hart? Did you strike gold between your pretty nun’s legs? Did your brujo drip like a peach when you suckled at the center of their universe? You cannot lie to me. Beg to whoever you think will listen, but know you are alone, know that I witness you. Steeped in sin. Left to rot, same as me.”
Something about this is just poetry even though it’s an insult
