Tags
domestic violence, escape from hell, keep it real, Oh Sinnerman where you gonna run to, poem, Poetry, sonnet, why I can't even go there
“Come,” you say, “no feelings allowed. Be loud,
Sinnerman, hate me, rape me. Come,” you say,
“if you’re huge. All cocks must be well-endowed.
All cocks must not droop or sag, for I play
rough. Use me and abuse me, fill me full
of your seed, make me bleed. This is about
my needs, so fuck me. I want a mouthful
of your”—–just stop. This sinner has grave doubts
about all that comes next. All that violence.
Rape you? Shite, I just met you. Keep it real.
Go work in a Women’s Shelter, then tell
me how sexy rape is. The vast difference
between us is that you need hell to feel,
but I feel because I escaped from hell.
