Obsession

Obsession wears a hopeful smile on her young face, licks her thin lips, and tries to make herself look sultry in case you glance her way. She lurks around outside your recording studio, hoping to see you walking to your car. When no one is around, Obsession goes up to your car and licks the dust from the door handle on the driver’s side and she trembles.

Obsession breaks into your house when she knows you’re at work, makes friends with your pets, and sprays herself with your expensive colognes. She memorizes your shampoo, conditioner, and laundry detergent, then buys them for herself so she can make herself carry your scent. She steals the head from your Clarisonic toothbrush and replaces it with hers.

Obsession finds a bowl in your sink with that scummy mix of old cereal and water inside. She pours new cereal and new milk into the bowl without washing it first. She leaves a pair of panties in your bedside table.

Obsession covers herself in pomegranate juice to hide the blood stains. She saw you with a woman while she was digging through your garbage. Obsession waits until the woman leaves and bludgeons her to death with one of your old empty wine bottles.

Obsession thinks she’s doing you a favor when she brings you the body. Obsession’s voice is cheerful and frighteningly innocent when she whispers, “Now we can be together.” It seems more psychotic than if she was being cruel or maniac.
Obsession is delighted when you jump on her and wrap your hands around her neck. She’s creepy, like a botfly’s larvae burrowing out of your skull. She reminds you of one of those that births their tadpoles through pores on their backs. Obsession’s red lips are unsettling because somehow- in spite of everything- you notice she’s kind of pretty.

She’s making gasping noises like a porn star, like she’s enjoying your brutality. You don’t know if it would hurt Obsession more to keep killing her or to let her go. She has this smile on her face that you’ll remember for the rest of your life. Her lips will be the subject of your next twenty two songs. You’ll never get over how she was sprawled on the floor of your kitchen like Sleeping Beauty—how compared to the beat up body of your dead girlfriend, she actually looks beautiful. You can’t believe how much someone would do just to try to love you. You can’t go a day now without remembering her. Obsession stays alive inside you.