the devil's visage

green loveseat

green loveseat in the middle of a room.

a room with four walls.

four smoke-stained, wooden walls.

thick smoke that hasn't sticked to the walls yet makes everyone hazy from my point of view, but your face. your face is prominent in my line of sight. i fucking hate it.

your face tortures me. the same face that taunts me in my slumber, yet you don't even know. You don't know what you do to me, and that's what makes me want to hate you. but that makes absolutely no sense because you haven't done anything.

i want you to know what you're doing so i have a reason to hate you.

i want to fucking despise you.

and i can't.

i can't.

i'm sitting on this green loveseat with the haze sticking to my eyeballs instead of the walls. i'm sitting on this green loveseat with your love stuck on my heart. i wish you were on this loveseat with me.

i wish you were loving me. i wish you were holding me tenderly. i wish you would draw little circles on my thighs while i rest my arm on yours. i wish you would fucking look at me.

look at me.

FUCKING LOOK.

stop looking, it hurts too much.

fuck you for making it hurt.

i want to despise you.

all of this I think while I'm sitting in your basement on the green loveseat you've probably had sex on because you're just that fucking cool.

i wish I was the one you fucked.

but instead i'm sitting here without the knowledge of your touch.

and i don't hate you for that.

in fact, i don't hate you at all.

but i fucking wish i did.