The Tragedy of a Daemon

this body, when has it never been touched? The sensation of these hungry hands running along my skin I should have long accepted it or at least grown numb to them but they still feel as foreign and invasive as the first time they knead sadistically but also with twisted gentleness in a pathetic attempt to get a reaction of pleasure from me and gratify his ego I stopped shedding tears long ago for human mourn a loss and a loss points to having some kind of worth but I'm just a hole for -ing what is there to continue crying over instead, I moan on cue a perfect practiced pitch that sends vibrations throughout his whole body making him reach completion sooner for I have more to deals to broker before the corrupt police come and arrest me and the morally upstanding wake up to mock my desperate fight at surviving this pointless existence