I don’t want your empathy
I want your violence.

I want to feel how you hurt inside
as the questions tear you apart
and pound through your mind
in the lucid dreams of a perpetual insomniac.

I want to be the glass you smash against the wall.
I want to be the cigarette put out on the back of your hand.
I want to be the face you punch in a drunken brawl
as you run from the memory of my words.

I want to be afraid of your bloodied fingers
hovering to close to my neck as your rage washes over me
lips screaming insensibly against my ear.

I want to be stripped naked
and violated by your eyes, that eat me alive.
(Because you’d never touch me the way you want to
without my consent)

© Indie Adams 2012
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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