I can't recall a time you ever were honest with me. I'm really glad that you're gone. You were a senseless pig covered in powder and glitter. I should have recognized you for what you were, a short tempered, ill witted pile of trash. You would always only speak your mind with the smallest incentive that MAYBE i had my own wishes too, even then I listened to you. For two and a half years i let you consume me and drown my will in the bile of lies you excreted. You would manipulate me to do your bidding with the empty promise that i was your best friend and soul mate. You wanted to nest in my heart you when you felt you needed it but in turn had the audacity to deny me a shred of sympathy when I clearly needed it too. I had to be patient when you WOULDN'T, I had to calm the monster when you threw your tantrums and embarrassed me in public. You taught yourself to exploit my insecurities and leave me feeling empty. When you would worry about your weight and how you looked i would constantly tell you how beautiful i thought you were, I didn't care how fat you felt I still loved you anyway. You were perfect to me... but now? That's ruined! I tried my best to be good to you and although i wasn't perfect I at least I never actually had the intention to hurt you like you wanted to hurt me. People like you make me sick, swarming like maggots to whatever stimulus you can feed on. You thrive on nothing but your cannibalistic impulses and destroy everything I find pretty. I'm glad you're gone.

My camera,  filled with flowers too shiny and cold to grasp,  the feel of a baseball bat,  sitting on canvas alongside  your brothers and friends. You ask too much of me I said,  you ask too much to be watered and bathed and fed to me intravenously.  The more pictures I take the sadder I get,  one more little flash and I think I might spit.  I leave you alone in your white box,  I hop on the road of a thousand ripped papers,  I thought it was enough to forget the bad taste,  I thought it was enough to just leave with much haste.  But no.  It's not I don't care anymore.  I'd rather be there than sitting alone,  with a camera on a chair.  I'd rather eat yards of purple raw flesh and squeeze pulp from a lung through fine mesh,  than sit one more time here with that tone and play with a button tied to a phone.  Driving alongside the repeating roadside thought I might see you,  and sitting there I thought why not see you.  I never thought it was glutton I really was eager,  to see,  and feel,  and want to be either,  at home or in love,  or one in between.  But that doesn't matter-  it's not great there.  I went alone,  with a truck full of ether and a patch on my arm where on my skin was a lever,  to crawl,  to open and see her at once,  i collapsed and saw nothing it was a dead end.  I'd still do it again,  and I don't know why.  But I can't stop.  It's deep in my thigh,  The needle of water you pumped in my vein,  to erase all my thoughts of ever escaping my brain.  Now I'm alone,  and I really won't need you.  But seeing as I do,  I might as well feed you.  Being sick, that makes you disgusting,  feeling no anger makes you worth trusting,  I hope.  I don't. Ever See.  your stupid flower. again.