(no subject)
put my hands above my head, she said. it makes me feel like i'm being martyred. like my hands are tied above me to the post, my limp limbs falling beneath, dragged toward the foul earth. bite into my collarbone, it reminds me of the way the dogs will attack my neck. like a drunken marksman, missing at first with foul aim.
i'm not ready for this sort of thing, but when have i ever been?