psycho
here I am
sitting in the attic
a skeleton
knitting for eternity
without ever mending
the holes of my childhood
wearing the wig
of my mother
like a long shadow
watching you
take off your clothes
in the bathroom
step into the shower
and with a long kitchen
knife of sexual lust
mixed with murderous desire
I sneak in
stand behind the curtain
of this modern facade
this Disney romance
this capitalist intimacy
waiting for the moment
for the strings to enter sharply
my cue to unhinge
take you in the raw
while still sitting
in the rocking chair
putting to sleep
a twisted black heart
shriveled inside my rib cage