Tell Me about the Violence, He Said.

Tell me about the Violence. He said.
I felt something thick and saccharine rising between my thighs.

Ohhh. This must be what it's like to have a cock.

Violence is a binding umbilical vernacular....

And then, there is the Pain, you give.
Shaping, taking, stretching me.
My sounds have. Wings.

I'm going to break you, whore.

Yes.

Your words like manna, falling like stones.
I trace the places where it hurt.
Echoes.

Narcotic, this. There's a country beyond that Door.
Sado-masochist. Sacrifist.
Passport stamped.

The fault line widens.
I Fall. In.

There are No apologies here. The strong. Survive.

Meditation on Hunger games.