I lust the walls while I lie on the floor. Remember me child. Remember me hand on my scars. Think me teenage in your lap. Think me falling over. I have to apologize twelve wives over. The ones who’d like to see me gutted or flattened by a rape. Those feelings have me. But they have grieving hair and boring eyes. I want you to find me, promising. I have a mild fantasy involving chaos licking.
I want to have you in a trench. I’ll hide a trinket in my furrow. I’ll have you jailed forever. I’m foaming misery. You quit panting now.
I think things about you thinking little teenage me. Yes I am baiting but with the most sincere intentions. You wouldn’t believe what I cost myself. Yes this is a message because you won’t let me reach you on the phone: meet me in a tunnel. Stick me there and bury me somewhere else. I want to death alone but I want you to have a hand. I’m a real devil.
Or grant me one dumb opulent wish: my blood pluming on your teeth.