You,
wrapped that duct tape
round my tense body
before I knew what hit me.

You,
with your raging breath
and sick putrid slimy smile
bent me over
backwards
shoving, pushing, shoving, grunting.

I spat at you
as you forced your lips
‘tween my legs
in that fucked up little trailer
you called home.

As you snorted coke
I rolled on the floor
wanting to speak
wanting to manipulate you
into not killing me.

I could hurt you now if I had the chance.
I would hurt you now if I had the chance.

Now I puke into my pillow
all the poison I feed myself
to extinguish the burning.

Your smell and the taste of your come
mixed with the Bacardi I gulped in the morning
still lingers, undigested, in my gut.

And when I look in the mirror
sometimes, I still see
what you made me.