THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.
I fuck myself to trigger myself
Two fingers in my unwilling hole
My body screams in protest
But my mind doesn’t listen
Just like they didn’t listen
Or maybe I didn’t say anything
Did I? Did I say no?
Did I fight?
A fine gossamer film veils my memories
They merge and distort
A hand on my head, a hand on my back
A dick on my face, a dick in my mouth
A hand on my hand, my hand on a dick?
Did I fight?
Not enough,
Not.
Enough.
I get fucked to trigger myself
To be pushed back into that place
Push me into the mattress
A firm grip on the back of my neck
While I stare at nothing in particular
Floating away from the moment
Floating away, yet confined to my head
By the memories playing on loop somewhere
in the dark, nigh forgotten crevices of my head
The ghosts of their hands haunt me still.
My body craves brutality
Slap
Choke
Fuck
Rape?
My body craves brutality
Take away my autonomy
Make me less than half the human I am
Make me an object of your pleasure
My body craves brutality
Slap
Choke
Fuck
Rape.
I’m tired of betraying myself
I’m tired of violating myself
I’m tired of myself
I’m tired.
The truth is
I am sick
in the head
My pain is their pleasure
A twisted paradise
My pain is my panacea
My passing, my end.