Homicidal Tendencies

When I see your face again, you better turn and run the other way. I will hunt you down, trust me — I will and I love to chase.

I really hate everything about you. You make me so angry that I feel crazy mad! I’m ruthless and won’t be assuaged by your sad cries and pleas. You’re such a PUNK and when I catch you will yield; because lately I’ve been having homicidal tendencies. When I think of you, my mind takes me to places bloodied and perverse. So before I ever see you again, you best pray you are eaten by a pack of wolves. For what I have planned is far worse.

When I see you in a familiar place, waving at me from a distance, I’ll wrestle you to the ground and bash your skull in. I’ll smash your giant head onto the floor till your brains leak out. I’ll tear at your face, scratch it beyond all recognition and I’ll punch you in the mouth. Kick in your eye sockets with my heels, gouge them with my nails and obliterate their doubt. Your eyes were made only to look upon me, not to find another for yourself. If they aren’t mine anymore, they aren’t allowed to fall for anyone else.

When I see you going around, walking proud; I’ll rip your ribs right out of your chest. Conquer your cowardly heart and eat it; let you bleed out. I’ll gash your carcass limb to limb; wear your sorry head as a crown. I’ll crush up your bones and seep them as coffee grounds. Your muscles and sinew served to me in a celebratory feast. Your skin will be like cat fur and mounted on my wall. Then I’ll laugh with the universe and say, “If you can’t be mine, no one’s going to have you at all.”