Glorified phantom,
hold me tight in your cold hands.
Squeeze me until I feel purple with abandon everlasting.
Give me your seething words,
pouring out of your blackened mouth,
dripping onto me and spawning green boils on my skin when you grasp me tighter.
Engulf me in your poisonous, glittering gaze,
so that I may be blinded by a mere glance at anything other than yourself.
Curl me into your palm and feel the texture of disorder,
as I contaminate your skin with the boils your own words constructed.
Drop me from your frosted hands. Let me descend to the floor,
a more inviting location.
At last, I can live:
Infracted.
Exploited.
Tainted.
Yours.