When I say I hope you die painfully, the wish is not physical discomfort.

It is not cancer or organ failure, but exactly that which you court.

For you are so smug, so entitled, such a bad judge of character in your delusional superiority, 

That I wish for you to find what you seek, a way to have both status and meet your endless need for pity. 

Find that nepotistic infant, what you call a “man,” that suited pig with skeletons in closet, only revealed once trapped, 

Take that offer of financial freedom from a bigot of false faith, and only learn the truth of it when the mask is dropped and sacked.

Be miserable in the bondage you mistake for “love,” focused only on the “good life” and the guise he used to snare, 

Forsaking what really matters, and the god you ignore above. Find that hot garbage you crave, a monster who can’t really care. 

Suffer the insults, the jokes at your expense, the infidelities and lying; suffer the control,

Be in the room with loneliness, but revel in the money and die a slave to fraudulence, having never known what it is to be whole.