obsession

i wish i didn’t memorize your ip address, that i didn’t continually refresh the analytics to see if you’re still watching. but you’re always watching & your gaze turns to laser beams & i’m frying in the rays. i’ve asked my mom to start locking the door more. i’m unsure what you’re capable of when you’re locked in some sort of schizophrenic wet dream. i put amethyst under my pillow, now i only dream of broken crystals & how you use them to slit my wrists then gag at my blood as if it’s my fault i’m bleeding. i still miss lying on your chest & my tongue on your skin. i wish hatred came as naturally to me as it does to you so i could push you into the grave i’ve been digging for a year & finally cover you in six feet of soil. i wish anger didn’t dissipate so quickly. i wish the sadness dissipated more quickly. i hate that my nose remembers. i hate that my tastebuds can’t forget the tang of your crevice. there are still things i want to share with you. i wish you weren’t so committed to brutality. wish you didn’t make it your art form. mostly i think of you as an entomologist & i’m the bug you keep in a jar. i wish you were an ornithologist & i could be the bird you tagged, but still let fly. & why am i so preoccupied with the ologies? i can’t turn you into a study, you were an immersion & i’m still in over my head. still an object, frothing at the mouth to make the past two years worth the wringing. i’m still ripping out my hair & chewing on chicken bones & playing schrodinger’s massacre. i wish i could quit committing the sin of empathy against you. i could never be your savior. i just wanted to give you a blanket, tuck you in, hold you close. i should have gone through your phone. saved myself some time. some denial. i hope the next girl rips out your throat & sucks down your esophagus like spaghetti. i hope she does all the things i was too weak to. why is it always pictures of two plates of pancakes that push me off the ledge? i feel nauseous & horny when you creep into my corners. like a bloodstream in christ’s chalice. i’m a rodeo show clown. a soggy bowl of shredded wheat & all the sugar has sunk to the bottom. why did you even want me? what was the point? you are akin to a medieval torture device. the cia should enlist you. for all your preaching, i still don’t know if you believe in the devil. i do. because i see him in you.