WARNING: Some readers may find this poem disturbing. |
I was born with two golden Shackles on my wrists, eager slave Girl, so keen to please. By the time I’m sixteen, Setting the table or stretching out On the table are all the same to me. Compliance keeps you safe, I comply, of course. I obey all of Daddy’s commands, quick to humour and Capitulate, like the obsequious souls in Caligula’s court. My Daddy makes me jump, makes me scream Makes me shiver, makes me cream My pants. Why? Well, there are so many Reasons it could be. You see, I was two, or I was three, At night, in the dark, when my Daddy would come for me, Poking into me hard. I am his for the taking, The groping and the probing, The biting and the burning. Urgent, tobacco-stained fingers fumble and fiddle, Clutch and squeeze, stealing and possessing me. I swallow My pain along with it all, I swallow it down. Quiet and compliant in the bed, Spinning and twirling away in my head, Deaf, dumb, and blind, completely gone. Dutiful daughter, Beautiful sister, and rather brilliant Scholar I was but recto- Verso lay the pleasures Of the flesh and a needle full Of coke. I grew up, stuffing Needles and penises into me. I got Bigger, got blinder and dumber, Slicing my arms open to get a better view, Shooting up smack to whack my Mother and silence her shrieking, Shut her up for good. Prowling like a vampire, a hungry lioness, on my knees, On all fours, I devour men and their floppy Genitalia and I always want more. |