SPENCER MARSH.

you feel it, don't you? the light pouring out of you; that warmth and wonder, dwindling and waning. how much light do you have left in you? how long can you keep burning?

a trapped wolf chews off its own leg to escape. i wonder what you will do.

⠀⠀ about . 'nless i wanna switch it up 'nd fuck some chick so her preppy lil' son can drop by twenty - five years later 'nd accuse me of bein' his dad .

⠀ " lil bitta grime never hurt nobody . " he states , stealing the last swig of whiskey from the bottle .

⠀ yeah , well . they are low - hangers ; he can leave if it bothers him that much . " protect you from some good ol' pure - blooded american life ? "

⠀ unkempt && grimy , manspreading on his sat - through couch in nothing but a pair of worn out boxers with a nigh - finished whiskey bottle in his hand ; he doesn't get it .

⠀ hey , * if y'mine , then blame ya ma . i've been livin' in this house ma whole life , you not knowin' about it is on her .

⠀ look , boy . i've got work comin' up soon , so if ya ain't got no business with me ... i could really use some quiet .

⠀⠀ ... if you're here for money —

⠀⠀ " i mean — " he starts , pulling the dish cloth off his face && letting it slide down his chest , into his lap . " — you barely even look like ... " kid was the spitting image of beau when he knocked up the kid's +

⠀ he's pulling the dish towel off his bare shoulder && throws it over his face , head leaning back into the couch . " this is a buncha horse shit . " he mumbles underneath the dirty fabric .