itapedhispicturetomywall.com
Summer 2026
Digital.
"I taped his picture to my wall
Prologue
In my ideal world, there is a line between heaven and hell.
And like any border, you can cross it.
I taped his picture to the wall by my bed. From a desperate antidispassion, I see his lifeless body.
Through new eyes, he sees mine.
I spent a lot of time wishing and not acting. Like during his death in his house. I wasn't home.
Essentially I'm down a ditch somewhere, or decayed,
or never in your minds to begin with. Never reported missing.
Chapter 1
DRIVE MY VAN LIKE A TRUCK
I posted:
"are there any aspiring necrophiles that want to practice on me"
Turns out he was already stalking me online and I got the craziest private message soon after.
Fortuitous.
It was January.
Chapter 2
FLASH ME WITH YOUR HEADLIGHTS
Every night I'd make him watch me fall asleep. I put a lot of trust into him to hurt me.
We're all on our selfish paths leaving secrecy and intimacy in sight. It made me think of I Spy. And it made me think of road rage. It made me think of ultraviolet, and social deixis.
Chapter 3
WHEN HIS CAR HIT ME, IT HURT SO BAD
The only thing that turns me on anymore is an ideology. And his was so flatteringly and aspirationally dumb. I adored him for sticking to it.
I had nothing to lose, driving through the mountains hitting potholes.
He was in my passenger seat and shot one bullet into the back of my heart.
Figuratively.
When he said he'd already dismembered a few people for real. Fuck!
Now I had no idea why he needed me.
Chapter 4
KILLER ORCA
I made a mistake
because I went into his house he built
and stepped right inside.
I was in him I accidentally went into his building blindly.
We spent some time with maggots after that. And beach roaches.
That was our first 5 months.
We ended up fitting together perfectly. We shared traits.
But I was very scared of him. Very uncomfortable. It was the deepest I'd ever been addicted to companionship.
By December, he was dead.
Little mayfly.
Epilogue
Every millisecond contributes to you. I was born starving.
When I was young, I idolized a friend who buried small animals.
And an obsession with blood-drenched bar brawls.
Before I met him I felt like I was eating ten raw steaks a day and still hunting in the fridge for something new. I felt like a cleaned shellfish ready to be cooked.
Nowadays I feel his body in mine as though someone had left a jacket on the bridge, half draped over the rail. And the sleeves are catching in the wind like they still had arms.
I touched it to see if it was warm."
Acton, N. (2026, March 26). I taped his picture to my wall. itapedhispicturetomywall.com