There is a wall separating your human spirit from my greedy, canine emotions.
Someday I will remove myself from this proverbial leash. I will not be hit on the nose anymore by your indifference.
It must feel nice to have permission to leave someone again and again in every way a human could dream of and never truly feel the consequences of doing so. In fact, you might even feel relief.
You are relieved of your duties
there is no need to bite the inner cheek
all the words I say are turned into clickable ragebait
all your deepest words are woefully misinterpreted times two when you see the way they contort my cold face.
I get to feed off the spare bits of food you leave out for me on the kitchen floor under the stove whenever you are in a pleasant mood and as I eat I wonder if there was ever anything better out there waiting for me.
My small shaking body holds anger, spite, lust, and a consuming love which you berate me for expressing with passion—no, with interest. There is a part of me which wishes I was like my bitch mother: I wish I too had the unnerved mind-body impulse to rip up notes between my teeth after reading all the words back to you, verbatim. Impulse would want to see you cry as you realize what you’ve done to me because maybe if the box of shit you left me is regurgitated back at you, and you sit there sifting through the trashcan out of fear to see what I got into, you’ll have no choice but to face your final rapture.
I am running toward headlights in an act of innocent self destruction, you will regret everything you did, and in death I will earn back my humanity in the glaring eyes of a righteous God.