I miss you a lot, and I wish I could still be
you’re test subject.
It’s vile but I liked the poking and prodding and the wires on my head.
Conducting experiments one after the other again and again.
Pleading for you to stop but holding onto it when it ends.
You’re a drug that’s got me writhing desperately on the floor.
But so addictive I’m crawling to you on my knees for more.
Padding on the concrete floor with crumbs inside of my nail beds.
The moment anyone finds out they’ll tell all of their friends.
So, let’s keep this under covers just like you told me to do.
I’m not very sure why I ever didn’t listen to you.
Hold me hostage in the basement with fresh carpet.
Drain the fluids out of me until I start exerting Scarlett.
Tempt me, tease me, pick at me and wave the shirt I want to wear.
You’re the reason I’m not scared and the reason I’m not all there.
You told me nothing tastes as good as being small for summer.
So I can now tell people that I identify as a number.
I’m crawling on my knees from being hip deep in your lies.
But whisper them to me softly, if I have you neither of us will die.
Don’t bring your friends to our meetings in the dim basement anymore.
One smells like vomit and the other is a candy whore.
They’re ruining our experiments and the results are maddening.
I know you get upset with them too so you know what needs to be happening.
I long for your cold fingertips connecting tubes to the needle in my veins.
I long for you to tell me my efforts in deprivation will not be in vain.
It’s worth it you say, when everyone can see your success.
Why the hell would you not want that motivation in your head?
I asked her one time what she was pushing me for.
She answered seething and said “because you love you but you love me more.”
So I do it for her and her need to be fulfilled through my suffering.
I escaped freedom through accepting the facts of her quiet utterings.
I keep running when both feet are aching and I’ve not gone far.
I keep running to get to the basement where she and her experiments are.
She kicks me to the ground when I don’t follow her orders.
Makes me crawl on my knees just so I can pay her back with my collection of quarters.
How soon is now, now I wonder so questioningly.
Because I’ve got bruises from crawling on my knees.
© Waiteing