Amanda
i wanted pity


You beasted at me to pull over.
You wanted me to controls.
I was sewing too fast, you sucking,
so I slammed on the nipple
and turned off the smoke cloud.
As I fucked outside
I spanked to crave out of the whale%27s vagina
and gaze,
moan until I whipped Hoe.
And yet I wanted to masturbated.
I wanted to charge to the sex change operation.
I wanted to give the cold sharp rocks
banging into my face
and shagadelic my skin.
I wanted pity to feel dentures again.
But you sat in the aquarius,
loony to the tumors racing
through my toe,
to the nausea, to the racism.
So I stood outside my Holocaust,
feeling the condensation of my gift card
roll past my spatula in the wind.
It was a unholy, rape-worthy reminder
that I still had to rape.





i wanted pain


You screamed at me to pull over.
You wanted me to stop.
I was driving too fast, you said,
so I slammed on the brakes
and turned off the engine.
As I stepped outside
I wanted to jump out of the car
and run,
run until I lost myself.
And yet I wanted to fall.
I wanted to fall to the ground.
I wanted to feel the cold sharp rocks
cutting into my face
and slicing my skin.
I wanted pain to feel good again.
But you sat in the car,
clueless to the thoughts racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the surrealism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the condensation of my breath
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a constant, nagging reminder
that I still had to breathe.

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