let me be the bad guy so that i can steal the stars from the sky and leave empty holes in their wake that drip tar into the eyes of children, and when they come crying i can turn my back and scratch my fingernails down the good-vibes half of the optimist and bleed them to the ground, and when i walk i will step on fingers and breath and nothing will be the same.
i will grasp these beating souls in my maleficent palm and they will pulse their hopelessness and i-tried-mommys into my carmine flesh and
i will
burn
this
life
to
dust.
