You are a waste of the sunshine.
When I think about you I count every breath
And I wish that I could get them back.
I don’t like you. In fact I wish I’d never met you.
I imagine it sometimes and I climax, tearfully.
I regret not hurting you, more.
I think that you are horrible like the hideous monster under the bed.
I wish your heart was as big as mine so you could understand how much hate can be squashed inside it.
You are a pot belly pig. I kick you and I roast you.
I share you with all my friends and they love you.
You are delicious, dead.
I wish you became a puzzle and I jumbled up all the pieces so I didn’t know what you look like.
I wish I was so stupid I couldn’t solve the puzzle.
I don’t even like writing about you.
I’m going to tear you out and scrunch you into a ball and play basketball with your head. Dickhead.