*** Me Hard Like You're God
Part One: Indecisive Banana
Intro.
My best friend's fiance fucked me. We had a threesome. I was indecisive, when he got on top. The safety word was banana. Then, I hysterically laughed throughout the night.
.
.
.
.
.
When you got on top of me, I
couldn't even look at you.
We had to do it sideways,
while the T.V. was on to Snakes
on a Plane to disguise the
awkward silence in my best
friend's and your fiance's bed.
Before we started, he told me
it was okay, like sex
and love were the same thing.
Like I was a piece of meat
spicing things up in this heat
of lust and lies.
Like this was all a three player
game and it would be over in no time.
Like I was nervous, but I never
wanted to when I saw your face.
That was the face of my best
friend's fiance who I hate.
That was not the face of who
I wanted to have sex with.
That was the moment that I
knew I couldn't,
but I did in disgust and shame.
When we changed positions, I
was on my stomach clutching
the pillow with us shaking and
sweaty, looking to the right,
wondering how could I give into
their demands just to get them
happy, watching the clock,
thinking of the people I actually
want to fuck.
It was 6:08 P.M. and 6:12, when
he was finally done.
Never spoke of it since.
So, this is what an all-American
spring break is like?
So, this is sex?!
Sex is supposed to be making love
as if we every time we touched,
we would blank out on life and
thrust into each other simultaneously
in a spontaneous form of exploding
fireworks on the fourth of July full of
passionate screams and moans.
Instead, we fucked like we don't even care
for each other. Let alone ourselves.
You fucked me like a rag doll.
I laid motionless under your control.
You stuck it in like a tampon in a vagina.
No orgasms.
No feelings.
Just warm liquid and the sound of nothing,
but a wrapper unwrapped and television static.
We skipped lips to hips just to get it over with.
Now, whenever my hips feel touch, I can't
help to think about you touching me.
You took my virginity and left me with regret
and bitter memories.
You may have taken my virginity, when I never
truly wanted you to,
but at least I got this sick poem about this, you
nasty, sex obsessed, horny bastard.
Next time, go fuck yourself.
Stupid threesome one night stand...
Part Two: Fuck Me
I have lost myself in a state of
mere confusion listening
blindlessly to the words of
a book written of fables and
laws to get saved into
the garden of Adam and Eve.
Every word, every tale sounded
like a crooked-eyed librarian
sitting on a brown wooden stool
opening picture books to her
minions.
You see, I'm not much of a follower.
Form the time I was ten, I
switched from brightly coloured
fabrics to the darkness of night
mixed with ripped fishnets and
miniskirts. Heavy eyeliner and
the proposition that speaks the
concern of my religious values
making heads turn in the church
of Jesus like I was a demon and
they wanted to make me holy again
from slipping into the loss of virtue.
I shoplift at Safeway, am a compulsive
liar, ditch school and get away by being
sly to teachers, drink and smoke
before class, fight, steal.
I even tried cocaine during English class.
How fucked up am I?
I sold myself.
Not to the dirty men who honk
their horns, whistling at a Las
Vegas hooker on the corner of
10th and Church, but to the
whores of magazines and
television sets making
millions off starving eyes hungry
for lascivious attention and
challenging the youth of society's
obscenity.
I am forced to go to church.
To believe in something that
I can't.
To take every word literally and
devote my life to what I call lies.
You force me to speak words I
cannot comprehend.
So, can you comprehend this?
Fuck me, Allah.
Fuck me with
modesty like I touch my
head on the ground
five times for forgiveness
and longing for sincerity
once more.
Fuck the sins out of me.
Fuck me into the rhythmic motions
of an uncrucified holy man extending
his arms out to the unholy messes of
a thousand forgotten children
pulled down from rainclouds and
thunderstorms into forgiveness
and new light.
Fuck me in this nostalgia called Hell.
And I will fuck you like the salt in your
eyes and the teardrops on my veins,
as I inject poisons in my
body of a temple marked scars
of stories that remind me constantly
of whys, what ifs, and what could
have beens.
I'll fuck you like the hypocrite I
became turning into the people I
had once loved, but only to hate
for the whores they became just
like me.
I'll fuck you like the blood I drink
made with my virginal and
untainted memories, as if I was
fucked with HIV at eleven.
Fuck me Artemis.
Fuck me with
sanctitude like
I am not a child and give
me your gift of chastity
to purify my soul like
I once was.
Fuck me, religion.
Fuck the Holy Spirit
in me and make me
a believer.
Fuck the anguish penetrating
my shell with marks from
a plethora of acidic rains and lick
the lacerations shut from from
being transpicuous like a
mirror broken in a black and
white disarray of illusions
shining back at you full of
fragmented puzzles slowly
put together each day until
fantasy realizes its reality.
Fuck me in Hell.
Fuck the devil out of me.
Fuck me in a place of worship.
Fuck the faults out of me
and kiss my ass you
bitchass motherfucker cuz
these demons inside won't stop
their arousing possessions.
Fuck my guilts into a disillusion
of a thousand forgotten flashbacks
blindly washed white.
Fuck my virginity back.
Oh, Lord. Jesus the Christ.
I pray to you all in hopelessness and faith.
The Alpha and Omega. Yes.
Fuck it back.
God, fuck me with
forgiveness like I
broke all ten
commandments and
then some to lead
me into Canaan.
Fuck me harder than
the masochist in me.
Fuck me better than that
threesome one night stand.
Fuck me like how we hate
ourselves, but not each other.
Bangan, hate me like
I have committed every
sin against love, but
show me how again.
So, I'll fuck you like it
was sacred.
Like a ritual ceremony.
I'll fuck you like a soldier in
his disress of infantry missing
hope with reminders of war wounds.
I'll fuck you as if those scars
were really my lost, forgotten stars and
nothing else mattered more than death.
I'll fuck you with my hot,
steamy passion for
taking vulgar words and turning
them into something more
than I intended.
Fuck me like you mean it.
As God as my witness,
I'll fuck you like midnight stars.
Fuck me like we were meant
to last, while
I fuck you with the moonlight striking
between the blinds in your bedroom,
as if it's the last time of a sex addict.
Fuck me like my poetry.
Like poetry.
And just maybe,
I'll fuck you like Christ with blood
stained hands.
.
.
.
.
.
Outro.
I'm never letting that statutory rapist
fuck me again.
Intro.
My best friend's fiance fucked me. We had a threesome. I was indecisive, when he got on top. The safety word was banana. Then, I hysterically laughed throughout the night.
.
.
.
.
.
When you got on top of me, I
couldn't even look at you.
We had to do it sideways,
while the T.V. was on to Snakes
on a Plane to disguise the
awkward silence in my best
friend's and your fiance's bed.
Before we started, he told me
it was okay, like sex
and love were the same thing.
Like I was a piece of meat
spicing things up in this heat
of lust and lies.
Like this was all a three player
game and it would be over in no time.
Like I was nervous, but I never
wanted to when I saw your face.
That was the face of my best
friend's fiance who I hate.
That was not the face of who
I wanted to have sex with.
That was the moment that I
knew I couldn't,
but I did in disgust and shame.
When we changed positions, I
was on my stomach clutching
the pillow with us shaking and
sweaty, looking to the right,
wondering how could I give into
their demands just to get them
happy, watching the clock,
thinking of the people I actually
want to fuck.
It was 6:08 P.M. and 6:12, when
he was finally done.
Never spoke of it since.
So, this is what an all-American
spring break is like?
So, this is sex?!
Sex is supposed to be making love
as if we every time we touched,
we would blank out on life and
thrust into each other simultaneously
in a spontaneous form of exploding
fireworks on the fourth of July full of
passionate screams and moans.
Instead, we fucked like we don't even care
for each other. Let alone ourselves.
You fucked me like a rag doll.
I laid motionless under your control.
You stuck it in like a tampon in a vagina.
No orgasms.
No feelings.
Just warm liquid and the sound of nothing,
but a wrapper unwrapped and television static.
We skipped lips to hips just to get it over with.
Now, whenever my hips feel touch, I can't
help to think about you touching me.
You took my virginity and left me with regret
and bitter memories.
You may have taken my virginity, when I never
truly wanted you to,
but at least I got this sick poem about this, you
nasty, sex obsessed, horny bastard.
Next time, go fuck yourself.
Stupid threesome one night stand...
Part Two: Fuck Me
I have lost myself in a state of
mere confusion listening
blindlessly to the words of
a book written of fables and
laws to get saved into
the garden of Adam and Eve.
Every word, every tale sounded
like a crooked-eyed librarian
sitting on a brown wooden stool
opening picture books to her
minions.
You see, I'm not much of a follower.
Form the time I was ten, I
switched from brightly coloured
fabrics to the darkness of night
mixed with ripped fishnets and
miniskirts. Heavy eyeliner and
the proposition that speaks the
concern of my religious values
making heads turn in the church
of Jesus like I was a demon and
they wanted to make me holy again
from slipping into the loss of virtue.
I shoplift at Safeway, am a compulsive
liar, ditch school and get away by being
sly to teachers, drink and smoke
before class, fight, steal.
I even tried cocaine during English class.
How fucked up am I?
I sold myself.
Not to the dirty men who honk
their horns, whistling at a Las
Vegas hooker on the corner of
10th and Church, but to the
whores of magazines and
television sets making
millions off starving eyes hungry
for lascivious attention and
challenging the youth of society's
obscenity.
I am forced to go to church.
To believe in something that
I can't.
To take every word literally and
devote my life to what I call lies.
You force me to speak words I
cannot comprehend.
So, can you comprehend this?
Fuck me, Allah.
Fuck me with
modesty like I touch my
head on the ground
five times for forgiveness
and longing for sincerity
once more.
Fuck the sins out of me.
Fuck me into the rhythmic motions
of an uncrucified holy man extending
his arms out to the unholy messes of
a thousand forgotten children
pulled down from rainclouds and
thunderstorms into forgiveness
and new light.
Fuck me in this nostalgia called Hell.
And I will fuck you like the salt in your
eyes and the teardrops on my veins,
as I inject poisons in my
body of a temple marked scars
of stories that remind me constantly
of whys, what ifs, and what could
have beens.
I'll fuck you like the hypocrite I
became turning into the people I
had once loved, but only to hate
for the whores they became just
like me.
I'll fuck you like the blood I drink
made with my virginal and
untainted memories, as if I was
fucked with HIV at eleven.
Fuck me Artemis.
Fuck me with
sanctitude like
I am not a child and give
me your gift of chastity
to purify my soul like
I once was.
Fuck me, religion.
Fuck the Holy Spirit
in me and make me
a believer.
Fuck the anguish penetrating
my shell with marks from
a plethora of acidic rains and lick
the lacerations shut from from
being transpicuous like a
mirror broken in a black and
white disarray of illusions
shining back at you full of
fragmented puzzles slowly
put together each day until
fantasy realizes its reality.
Fuck me in Hell.
Fuck the devil out of me.
Fuck me in a place of worship.
Fuck the faults out of me
and kiss my ass you
bitchass motherfucker cuz
these demons inside won't stop
their arousing possessions.
Fuck my guilts into a disillusion
of a thousand forgotten flashbacks
blindly washed white.
Fuck my virginity back.
Oh, Lord. Jesus the Christ.
I pray to you all in hopelessness and faith.
The Alpha and Omega. Yes.
Fuck it back.
God, fuck me with
forgiveness like I
broke all ten
commandments and
then some to lead
me into Canaan.
Fuck me harder than
the masochist in me.
Fuck me better than that
threesome one night stand.
Fuck me like how we hate
ourselves, but not each other.
Bangan, hate me like
I have committed every
sin against love, but
show me how again.
So, I'll fuck you like it
was sacred.
Like a ritual ceremony.
I'll fuck you like a soldier in
his disress of infantry missing
hope with reminders of war wounds.
I'll fuck you as if those scars
were really my lost, forgotten stars and
nothing else mattered more than death.
I'll fuck you with my hot,
steamy passion for
taking vulgar words and turning
them into something more
than I intended.
Fuck me like you mean it.
As God as my witness,
I'll fuck you like midnight stars.
Fuck me like we were meant
to last, while
I fuck you with the moonlight striking
between the blinds in your bedroom,
as if it's the last time of a sex addict.
Fuck me like my poetry.
Like poetry.
And just maybe,
I'll fuck you like Christ with blood
stained hands.
.
.
.
.
.
Outro.
I'm never letting that statutory rapist
fuck me again.