before I rest each night,
i have to check each lock and key.
or else I may wake with a fright,
and find you standing next to me.

8 times I check each window,
8 times I check each door.
before I lie my head among my pillow,
i have to be so sure.

odd numbers make me angry,
to a point I can’t express.
one day I will make you see,
as I undo my dress.

how will I go on?
i imagine the smell of his farts,
as I caress my lacey thong.

I wanted to know all of the rituals,
of which he may perform.
‘no’ is all he replied to my calls,
and now I am left to mourn.

oh no here comes an intrusive thought ,
of which Simon is the victim.
I’m cooking him with a dash of salt,
and licking out his rectum.

it tastes so nice BUT I WONT SHARE,
you’ll have to get your own.
I’m sorry if it does not seem fair,
blame OCD, don’t moan.

I wish I looked liked Alexa Chung,
maybe then Simon will love me.
brb I’m going to take a big dung,
and shove things up my fanny.



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