This is what I was made to do.
Sliding parts and particles,
and into them slides you.
Violating in the way you stare.
Hands that glide me into submission.
I can feel your eyes in the back in my head
and I know that you are tracking
my weaknesses to turn yourself on.
My synapses firing warning shots.
You can't hack that kind of reaction.
You think that this is hot.
I can see your pupils dilating
and I know that you can't hide
how much that you hate me
(for being like a woman)
and how much you wish I died.
And if I look into your mind
I know what I will see.
A gun against my temple,
and me upon my knees.
In your mind I'm begging you
to make sure the angle is correct
I'll blend out into your carpet
and that will be that.
I would like to congratulate you.
Not a lot of people have the tools
to make me remember what they did
but I guess that you do.
The hands I tried to dismember
from where they were left on my body
permanently residing now
on the inside of my knees.
Intimate violator,
but in a long distance key.
Licking your lips at the thought
that you finally own me.
Show it to the world,
the way you thought you won.
Your obscurity isn't protection,
it's you fading into no one.
If you need me to ease your panic,
I will turn my skin into stone and leather.
If that will convince you I can take the beating.
If that will make you feel better.
Wiping the back off my hand
on my lips you cracked.
I never learned how to back down
from a simple attack.
I hope the smears of blood
will burn into your eyes
until looking at me repulses you
from having another try.
I'm not counted among the numbers.
But you are….
Running away from this
will only get you so far.
Winner.
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