I hate the way you yank on this choke collar.
The way it’s do or die.
Listen up or I cut off the oxygen.
I cut off your life’s blood.
I hate the way I can feel this collar cutting into my skin.
I can feel it chaffing at my creativity.
I hate the way I need you more than you need me.
I hate the way I can look at you with such hate and contempt but no matter what I do
I cannot let this tongue fly.
I cannot spit out this anger that’s clogging up my throat.
As I suck what oxygen I can from between the words of hatred I have for you lodged in my trachea
I still serve you.
I still answer and honor you.
It disgusts me.
It makes my stomach turn the way I’ve got no choice.
Everything about you makes me sick but here I am.
Still under your thumb.
I’m going to cut your freaking hand off.