Gas Money

He says I don’t have to buy him things but I’d buy him all the world has
and the return on my investment is my body gripped in his hands
There is no yeti, no chupacabra, no monster in Loch Ness, he doesn’t understand why I love him and that’s probably for the best
Santa’s not a real person; the tooth fairy is a lie, there are no pretty unicorns, just rhinos with bloodshot eyes
Cupid’s arrow always misses- because fake violence is scary- but all of a sudden I’m hurting him, when his feelings are imaginary
Maybe I don’t know who he is but there’s nothing abominable in the snow, a little kindness for your air castle will get you a hell of a show…
He can take tremendous pain, fire, a blade, a blow; but I pinched him near his rib-cage and he yelled at me so…
He’s selfish and a liar and as fake as he has to be to get anything in the world that he wants to from me but torture would be if he wanted nothing
I’m trying to chain the beast in the basement so he will never leave but he keeps saying, ”I’m still here and I’m sitting comfortably…”
I don’t know what to believe, are there mermaids in Poseidon’s sea? Is a hairy ass Sasquatch standing right behind me?
He mumbles thank you for everything, probably feeling remorse for playing me but I have volunteered continuously for his brand of deceit
Maybe I’m wearing him down, maybe I can buy a plot on the moon, maybe I’m the hallucination and he’s just a damn cartoon
Either way if Sherlock were real what else could he do but just fall in love in with Irene again hoping reciprocity fucks the truth-
If there’s a person inside of him then there’s no more fantasy, if I can physically hurt him then there’s a chance he secretly loves me…
Because it’s the same fucking thing, his pain and my love, my pain is his love in a weird world whereof – everything good is simply made up
And that’s the worst best thing… because I’d pay handsomely to see- if I can trick the Jack in the box to only pop up just for me…


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