*If M/s BDSM imagery disturbs you, it may be best to skip this poem. If you have to ask what those letters mean, you may want to skip this poem. This describes abuse I survived as a teen; though for others, consenting adults, it is not.*

The room is dark
chill on bare flesh
try to keep still
or the bonds will bite
hands to knees
splayed wide
rough cotton scrape
on mottled cheek
No sound, no movement
but there – his breathing
cut shorter by the sight
of aching weak tragedy
and trembling fear

Burn in muscle, joints scream
time unknown
secret flesh, hidden places
opened by metal bars
lifted, exposed
Fear breeds silence
gives birth to terror
tears and pleading unbidden
garbled mess
listened to but never heard

When the hands touch
spread and slide
body jerks, treacherous
no name for flesh
no word for pain
unknown what is pressed
deep within
and left

Silence and pressure
violation of tears
waiting for hands
for teeth, for hot and
bludgeoning shaft
to claim, remold
absolve by hunger spent
purpose fulfilled
If good, if still
if not unclean
Bite lip, taste blood
cannot scream

Unclean brings nothing
no escape, no release
and the tormentor
the lover
may not return
cry and ache
shift to feel
pressure bites

Exploding breath
veins grow cold
no use, no no no no
It is finished
Darkness cannot absolve
as shameful hunger
dangles, spills
between shuddering legs
Yet the game has just begun


© W.R.R. 10/31/1996

About W.R.R.

Bipolar & survivor of incest/child sex abuse and adult male rape; bisexual, polyamorist, poet/writer/advocate & married father of four. View all posts by W.R.R.

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