He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.
The man’s a saint, or he’s a sinner, and I’m too fucking drunk to be able to tell the difference. So I just close my eyes and wait for him to fuck me, because that’s why he’s here, right? That’s why he’s haunting me in my mind? That’s why he tortures me, day in and day out.
No. I open my eyes. I try to stand up. Not this again. Not the devil and his monsters and my skin all on fire. Not those claws around my throat, my heart. Not any of this again. I have been acting out the same death scene over and over and over again, but for some reason I’m still alive. Something inside me is whispering, “Run away!” But no matter where I go, there he is. There he fucking is. Lurking in every corner of my mind, crouched down and laughing at me every time I think I’ve gotten away.
I run anyways. I have always run. I will always run. And he will be there, always.
Sometimes I sit down. I give up. I cry in a heap of dirt on the ground, and he comes to me, the way he always comes to me. His hands down my pants and then he’s undressing me. I can’t tell if this is my reward or my punishment, if I love it or I hate it. If this is pleasure or this is pain. Is this rape or revelation? All I know is that eventually it will stop, and then I will have to start running again. Chased through the back channels of my own subconscious by a demon whose intentions are inscrutable. Whose hands are covered in callouses and chafe as they pull across the skin on my inner thighs. Whose dick tastes like chaos. Whose skin burns to touch, but I am cold all the time. His mouth is filled with pain, corrupting mine.
He loves me. He tells me he loves me, and he asks why I am running away. He chases after me, and I don’t know why I’m running. I have to run. I have no choice. Running is the only thing that I know how to do. It’s the only thing that makes sense. He is death. He is the devil. He is my demise.
He catches up to me. He grabs my arm. He looks into my eyes with those monster eyes. He asks me, “Do you love me?”
I pull away. I look away. Of course I love you. Of course I fucking love you. Why else would I run away. Our love is the disease that will ruin the world, and I am trying to save the world.