Here's the www.textsfromlastnight.com poem of the week.
(407):
For what it's worth, I didn't think that hitting you with a crowbar as hard as I did would break your arm like that. You should drink more milk.
Steam. I just needed to let some off,
You know? You’re a
nice guy, Paul –
Maybe too nice.
Sometimes a girl
Doesn’t want a hug or a foot rub.
Sometimes they want rug burns.
Sometimes a girl wants to feel her teeth rattle
As she’s mashed into the wall, surrendering to
A balm, a respite of violence and sex. My choice.
Does it – does the cast itch?
I bet it does. Sorry, Sorry.
Yeah, so I bound you up. Ties on the bedpost. Wanted
To show you what I craved.
That control, that consumption
Of a body. And, wow –
it,
It, threw me. This cusp of domination. You squirmed,
Your voice, halting and raw. You began to cry. I wanted more.
That’s all, all I remember.
You screamed. I saw the wretch of blood.
Don’t know how – how it got into my hand.
I -I should go.
Already picked up my things from your place.
I don’t know what I am,
But what I am needs to be known.
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