I am ashamed of being so despotic and inquisitive with myself,

loving myself so little, despising me, denying myself love

(what I can give myself and what I can receive from outside),

and then drag myself and beg for it

right and left in a covert way, nothing clear.

I do not ask for it or make it explicit, because that commits me.

So, I demand that love and attention (I'm dying to get it) and,

if I don't get it (which is likely by not exposing it openly), I unleash my hatred and my revenge

(all before feeling pain, emptiness, loneliness),

I aim, I shoot and, if I can, I kill.

I refine my style. You can go to kill in many ways and I have style,

I don't kill in any way, what merit does that have? I can be a bitch with a simple eyebrow raise,

I can unload all my rage and hatred with the slightest of gestures.

And here yes, I feel powerful, indestructible, absolutely sexual, because I will be bad, but how good I am being bad!

In another thing no, but in contempt (both outwardly and inwardly),

I'm good. And that turns me on,

warms me up, makes me work,

lets my hair down.