Watching peasants scream about inflation from the backseat of My chauffeured luxury sedan is… cute. While they march for discounts, I glide between boutiques — legs crossed, wallet full, conscience clear. We’re not in the same economy. I hope inflation skyrockets, I hope your
You stare at my ass like it holds salvation, but it holds nothing for you but denial, obsession, and permanent ache. My ass has ended relationships, drained wallets, and broken minds. You're just the next fool to pray to it — and still never be worthy of a single kiss on it.