Maybe I need to write on these walls
just a paragraph or two
of how you
don't matter
and I
don't matter.

This stupid thing in me
a monster ravenous
for my time and hands
it demands
to be heard,
tells me I'll never be cured,
and by you I'll always be allured.

Maybe that is the only way to do things
and, oh, how my little wax heart sings
softly to it.
This monster, this clawing contraption,
beats everything else down
Now, I unzip my gown.