Really Off My Feed

I am in darkness, a deep, unending chasm
of hate and sorrow, black death all around me,
and I am suffocating on loathing and overwhelmed
by turtuous longings, for you, the love of my lonely
and secret soul. Your name, NozeChayn, feels like an
icicle made of Drano stabbed through my heart.

I don't know why you asked Amber to the dance,
but I do know that I am drowning in desperation, and
as the blackness consumes me, I hear nothing but the
horror of your voice calling out my name,
wraith-like, "Yeah, uh, Stephanie? Me and Amber got
our tongues peirced together, so that's like we're engaged."
Oh, the plague of the darkness and blackness, and
the dark blackness. It's very, very black, and dark.

Also, my name is Hortense.

You are a demon, or a ghost,
or the guy at In-and-out burger who short-frys me
every time I go in. You make me imagine new words to
describe my self-hatred and self-loathing, like
despercating or plaguetuous or blarkness.

And yes, I will write your English essay
for you.