Respect Matters More than Blood
Let's get one thing anal-straight. I don't talk to my father. Not a call, not a text, not a fucking forced holiday card that tastes like guilt and cheap paper.
Let's get one thing anal-straight. I don't talk to my father. Not a call, not a text, not a fucking forced holiday card that tastes like guilt and cheap paper.
Ever notice how society turns fragility into a fetish, turning therapy sessions into circle-jerks of victimhood where 'healing' means never growing a spine? Oh, sinners, let's sink our teeth into this
They sold you a dream wrapped in a swastifashion suit: climb the ladder, get the cash, find the bliss. It's the ultimate anal-manual for life. But what happens when you
Twelve years is a long time to be a ghost. To be the memory of a blonde, broken girl he saved from lipstick-stained suits and bathroom walls. When I rang
“When the government is your parent, don’t be surprised when you’re treated like a child.” That’s not a metaphor in Sweden, it’s the user manual. The Swedish utopia isn’t a
Listen up, you digital sewer rats and desk-jockey dictators—Xavi "The Lord" here, straight from the venomous guts of Venomous Sin. We're not your feel-good playlist; we're the spike through the