Reality Adjustments

I Got You These Flowers But They Died, By Donald Trump

May 09, 2018

I’m sorry.  So so sorry.

I love you.  I bought you these flowers.  You, yes you, make it all worthwhile for me.

Fresh roses really brighten up a room, don’t they?  I wanted to brighten up your room.  I wanted to brighten you.  Will you let me brighten your body with my flowers?

I cut these roses as a tribute of my love for you.  I killed them.  I killed these roses just for you.

I waited a long time to say I love you.  They rotted as I waited.  Now I offer you their noxious and moldering corpses.  I love you.

Oh how I danced as I sprinkled the rancid bouquet across the gravestones for us.  I made you a path of purulent petals for you to glide along in your grace.  Along my once-red carpet of desiccation.  Please take my hand as I escort you down my aisle of death.

She loves me not.  She loves me not. 

What naughty boy I’ve been.  I’m so sorry.  So so sorry.

I just want you to love me.  With your body.  Will you forgive me with your body?  Your body is like a rose.  I want to score your body like a rose.

Who will love me now?  Will you?   Will you, yes you?

The Tilted Glass