Loverboy, never imagine that I
would hesitate to kill you if you try
to get back up again.
Both of us have gone down too many times
not to know the next move;
one gets angry, the other soothes.
But this time it’s different;
this time you’re a corpse
and my mother really will object;
she’ll scream until she’s hoarse.
And then, like, freaking kill me until I just shrug and go “OK, whatever, fine, he’s gone,” and I’ll get a shovel and go bury you again and hope that this time, you got the freaking message already.