May 20, 2002
If I was the stalking type, well let’s just say that you would not be alone, okay? You’d always be watched and tracked, like prey is tracked and hunted down. Except no trap would be set to catch you, I’d simply shoot you with my eyes. Fire off a round of fire-hot flack straight into your body, your soul, marking you mine. And you’d wake up and wonder what is this red bump on my thigh? This scratch on my wrist? I don’t recall getting injured. And when the hair on your neck rose, that’d mean I was nearby, watching.