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Sometimes I marvel at it..
Want to kiss it.
Want to hug it.
Say wonderful nurturing supportive things to it.
Sometimes I wonder how I ever got along without it.
I write with it.
Play with it.
Talk to it.
Watch it.
Listen to it.
Call it names.
Curse at it.
Demean it.
Belittle it.
And sometimes I want to
Kick it.
Punch it.
Throw it on the ground
And stomp on it.
Slander its reputation.
Whack it.
Smack it.
Throw it out the window.



Drop it off in the middle of the freeway.
Run over it.
Drag it up and down the street.
All because I know that
It laughs at me.
Plots against me.
Secretly prays for me to fail.
Ridicules me.
Mocks me.
Deletes my files.
Hides my photo’s.
Watches Porn while I’m at work.


Prays for my ruination
Undermines my self esteem.
Pokes fun at my spelling.
Calls me names.
Goes through my things whenever I’m
Not at home.
This beige little bastard spawn of Satan.
That I love so dearly and have become
So hopelessly addicted to.
Excuse me.
I’m gonna go shoot myself now.
or hit myself in the head with a tack hammer.
I haven't decided which yet.
I'll let you know.



Anthony B Timmons 2011