I don't write. I create.
Sugar poured through my DMs with offerings of joy and money.
Sugar said, ‘Unique, I want you!’
Sugar said, ‘decide now or never?’
I licked my lips and pondered about sending sexy pics. But how many pairs of boobs are available on Google?
Sugar sprinkled around my DMs offered sweet talk but no therapy.
I deleted his messages.
For hours upon hours, I called out for Crow.
No answer, no sounds nothing at all.
A recluse most of the time, I tend to stay inside.
But outside I venture and find Crow coming up out of the throat of Mrs Bullington. Covered in bile and seeds, out came his little head.
He said, ‘Unique, Unique, she had taken the last Rolo!’
‘I wish I had met you years ago!’
Said the man that claimed to love me so.
Back to the whore of his child’s mother, he spoke.
Silently, longing to choke!
YOU!
Crow peered into your beautiful eyes and said, ‘my dear child, they’re almost as beautiful as mine. You should never have lied!’
Years ago wasn’t the right time.
I left the room, thus leaving you to cry, for a broken heart, was never truly mine.
The scene was his office.
The temperature was hot initially, then too cold.
The sofa was green.
The plants all around formed an indoor forest.
It was hated by the phobia in me and loved by the vegan inside.
I do not comprehend his logic.
A liar is a liar.
A fake is a fake.
The lie was bore from his lips, they said…
Goes by and eventually a week turns into forever.
I’m precious don’t touch me.
I tell you often you literally make me feel so small.
My life is a subscription to you.
I’m a notification on silent.
I’m a hashtag for the archive.
While you play God with an Atheist.
If this is depression, this is YOU.
If this is insanity, this is YOU.
If this is a complex onslaught of emotions, then this is my final day here on Earth.
I cry real tears.
You drain me and I try.
You act and I believe the show.
You manipulate and like a newborn lamb, I listen.
I’m done.
What day is it today?
I don’t know Rona, GO AWAY!
Off.
Like cows milk rotting away in an office fridge.
Like stale bread that begins to foam.
Like my line that you keep calling.
To love you before.
What does that look like online?
Mute.
Block.
Unfollow.
Follow with a promise then unfollow.
A silent DM.
A plethora of likes for you to notice?
@ followed by a beg ‘please, follow me!’
#SincerlyYoursStan
PS: I get you!
I know no one famous.
I piggyback on my own back.
I’ve never taken anything offered. Actually, all that you provided was fake.
When did your words come into fruition?
I’ve never sat at a free desk and completed a piece.
You lied then.
You lie now.
Please leave a message at the tone.
Dress up, because dressing down is impossible for you.
Pose for the cam.
Post on the gram.
Hashtag I am and credit yourself as a somebody.
Surrounded by opportunity, I do not envy you.
Influence me bitch and live your life as a star.
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