bloody my fucking shoes
you are a stranger
untie the knots
lick my feet
tell me that you hoped
things would be better
but they're not
tell me you're sorry
this is unclean
tell me I'm a slut
tell me you hate the way
i look at myself in the mirror
and you hate the way that men
look at me in the streets
it makes you want to
lock me in a closet
beat me bloody
and never feed me
you had a dream
about killing me
do it
there is blood in the carpet
drunk on yourself
you walk around
with the windows open
and no clothes on
a monstrosity erect
at its own failure
i tear you down
and spit on you
i want to
i spit on my hands
cut open your chest
watch you come on the sheets
ask you if I'm clean
you shut your mouth
and start to listen
A contest entry
- Slither Me by grm.
21300 points, ended October 3, 2008, 20 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
this is not my usual style tell me if you hate it, mkay
Comments
-
Wow
There's nothing to hate about this excellent write...I Love it when the stark-naked truth is well-put in poetry form and delivers or stirs up emotions. Good job,
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i don't hate this; quite the opposite
-
I actually find it quite erotic...that one would even have shoes designated solely for fucking.
Maybe too much of the bloodiness. Love that stanza that begins "tell me I'm a slut"
mmmmm
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in the end, it's all holy water
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