Arthur Batson, organist Holy Trinity Kew, hated me because the old perve wanted me, perhaps? (I'm desperate for another reason for his cruel behaviour of a 12 year old, but none are forthcoming) I could feel it when he was near me, that angst he used to have. Those eyes. Those mean little eyes.
He had God to see him through, which didn't, actually, stop him from shaking with pent up homo lust for my 12 year old choir boy form.
The miserable old bastard made my life hell, essentially, because... I remember the look in his eyes. I've seen it many times since.
He was a man who had god?
No comments:
Post a Comment