I hope they die, your women. I hope they all fall from grace, hope their bosoms become flaccid, their lips and tongues parch, their rears thin. I crave for their bodies to perish from the all maladies of time in the blink of an eye. I yearn for their figures to flatten, darken, vanish… I patiently wait for the day they are repulsive, hateful monsters!
For it is only then, my dear, that you will understand they have nothing to offer you, nothing to sum to you… However, I do not blame you, o I do not, for your blindness – it is with their sickening bodies that they have empowered you, those demons, vile scoundrels, spiteful urchins, who employ their youthful lumps to deviate you, o sacred, chaste beloved cherub, from my path!
Perchance I am wrong: if so is to say, you are, indeed, an imbecile! For have you not only declined my perfect love, but seethed spite for the only person who has craved for your best, who has heeded all of your sighs and mumbles! May all that attention halt, then, and you shall be acquainted with much gloom and pain, for I will no longer stand behind you, watching your every step, manipulating your very fate!
O but that will not occur, for I will not allow it! Instead, I will slice off the tongues of the whores who leech from you before my very eyes! I will dilacerate their vulvas, burn them, make them inutile, so lame not even the most desperate among men will lust for them! I will torture them; let them feel my endless pain…
And if you, naïve child, intervene, attempt to protect your whores, will I be so utterly, horrendously thwarted my life will be worth less than theirs… As for doing that, you might as well kill me and feed my flesh to pigs, mock my blood… For all I have done was living solely for you, dear creature of heaven, and to see you enchanted by those evil imps, satanic mermaids is only so much I can take… I would rather be dead and boil on the molten rock than attend such a horrific scene…
But now there’s no time left… I hate you and I hope you die with them.
