You, your lying filth congeals
Black
Against my pale skin.
Me, my fumbling fingers search the
Dark,
Reveling in your sin.
In your eyes I see the mirror image of myself,
Distorted, backwards.
I am but a rag doll in your hands:
A prop for you to fulfill your body’s
Base demands.
We find
Pleasure in the willful/willed violation,
And unity in the conjunction
Of carnal desire.
You whisper hoarsely, low and earnest,
The threat of broken skin,
Convulsively, I shudder.
Your eyes on mine, mine
Dropping to the floor.
Lowest, basest, vilest desire
Pulsating
Electrically through us both.
Your hands on my hands,
Closing all around me, containing
My escape.
And in that violent hour
I felt your teeth on my skin:
You refused to kiss, only to devour.
All the while, your fingers tangled up my insides.
(November 12, 2008)
