I Own Him!

Down deep in the cellar I keep the body.

White without sunlight, dirty, unwashed, cold.
Grit crushed in between his teeth, barely kept alive.
His finger nails worn short, torn and broken from
clawing at the door.

I have kept him down there long enough he is forgetting how to talk.
I don't even know if he could make it up here on his own.

Call it what you will. Gross. Perverse. He's Mine.
My experiment in humanity.
What happens to a soul trapped under life.

I hear him at night, scuttling about, shrieking and moaning.
When the neighbors ask I let them see. Why not?
They see one man chained up in my basement
they know not to ask too many questions.

I love him, my man downstairs.
I don't expect many to understand what it takes
to hold and control, to protect.

Maybe it isn't love. Obsession, attachment?
I suppose it doesn't matter exactly what it is.
The body knows with out me it will die.

I own him. I Own him. I Own Him!