It’s the Devil in me

 

I hate when Fran is happy.

That’s why I fuck her once a week whether she wants me to or not.

It drives her new boyfriend crazy since she can never say no.

This is not because I love Fran.

I love nobody, not even myself.

I just can’t keep from hurting other people.

Some jerks I grew up with beat the crap out of people.

I fuck with people’s heads.

The more misery I cause in other folks, the less I feel inside myself.

Even then, I have to keep drinking to keep the ache away.

Even this doesn’t always work.

And certainly not as well as it used to when I could drink enough to pass out.

Now I drink and piss and never pass out.

I hardly even sleep.

This gives me too much time to think.

And my thought are full of hate.

I keep thinking up new ways of torturing Frank and her new man.

I figure the more ways I come up with, the less pain I’ll feel, balancing out some cosmic injustice that has left me so unhappy over the years.

When I fuck Fran she sometimes calls out his name.

It pleases me to think she mike call out my name when she’s fucking him.

I know he wants to kill me, and he would, too, if he could find a way of doing it without losing Fran.

Maybe someday, I’ll push him over the edge into doing it, torturing him enough so he can cease by pain and cause Fran to hate him forever.

I can’t help all this.

It’s just the devil in me.