Mon. Jun 27th, 2022

He wants an angel. 

A shiny, rosy cheeked thing that wears

a halo 

but will trade it for flames 

whenever and wherever he pleases. 

He wants a place to

release.

To let go when the purple embers

stuck in the pit of his stomach 

are consuming him instead. 

He wants a brain.

He has his own but needs another. 

A lump of pink he can

pour his poison into

drip

by

drip.

He wants a body to drain

with an IV meant to 

take whatever he decides

the world owes him.

He wants power.

It doesn’t have to have a name 

but

I guess he decided he liked

the way mine tasted on his tongue.

The acidic burn like lime each time 

lips meet,

it fazed him none. 

He wants a game. 

A ragged round of cat and mouse

chased in concentric circles 

until someone goes limp. 

It’s never him. 

Tell everyone you were left 

with scars like silver etchings 

on your insides.

Tell them how it hurt.

It’s exactly what you wanted. 


Ali Kochik is a fourth-year English major with minors in Journalism and Women’s & Gender Studies. AK908461@wcupa.edu

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