This is how it starts.
You stub your finger
and there's
a little hole,
a little entry
way under your nail.

He finds it.
That weak spot
and he slithers in.
He claws his way
through your fingertips.

You see his face and
remember how
greasy it was under
your skin.
You see his bowl cut
you see his lips
you see his eyes
you hear his voice.
And you can't
help but smile
because you don't
understand why
you would ever
be so stuck on
everything he did.
He is no longer
the glue that
sticks you to a
chair.

He asks to have
your arms around
his waist and you
just imagine him
with his hands
around your neck.
You don't cry this
time.
You have a name for
this demon.
You have a stupid hair
cut and a stupid face
for this monster.

His voice isn't
near as mesmerising.
And the wind blows
his scent on you and
you try hard not to
cough.

He does not control
you. Giggle as you feel
the freedom flow through
you like morphine.