i brush my teeth and think of you,
i wish you’d go to hell.

perhaps to stop these sorts of thoughts
my soul i’d have to sell

Driving to work (and you), I hope
my tires pop in hell.

you see that bright green traffic light??
can go to hell as well.

I do not need these feels for you
i wish they'd go to hell.

i have them, though i pray to God
that you would never tell

a battle plan: all thoughts of love
to hell, to hell, to hell!

away with all soft feelings,
they can rot away in hell!

a category i’ll reserve
for online texts- in hell!

my smiles, hair-twirls, stupid laughs,
i’ll send them off to hell!

i’m ready: all my loving words,
safe stowed- my heart shan’t swell!

your footsteps round the corner-

so,
my logic goes to hell.