He wants to take my life,
That thing behind the mirror,
He wants to take my place,
To have it all,
He wants my thoughts,
And he wants my face,
---
He wants my tattered shoes,
My chipped coffee mugs,
That stained chair,
Even my apartment,
With its black fucking mold,
---
He wants my memories,
Of childhood,
Of that first kiss,
And hide-and-go-seek at dusk,
---
He wants the hollow emptiness,
The night terrors,
The dreams of shooting meth,
---
He wants every broken thing,
In me,
---
He wants my junk mail,
My debt,
And the callus on my feet,
---
And when he holds it all,
In his stinking shriveled arms,
He will not treat it well,
There will be no place on a shelf,
And no one will come by to clean,
---
Instead, he tries it on,
And howls with empty eyes,
Drooling in mania,
---
He laughs,
and laughs,
and laughs,
---
How well the terror fits,
How sweet the loneliness,
It's all his,
And how quickly death forgets.
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