hundreds of little eyes spying.
Fear comes slow, then all at once,
stealing my voice so I can’t scream.
Then under the song
is the sound of flesh on flesh.
Hunter’s shadow stretches across the wall.
He’s in the chair at the foot of the bed,
naked and grunting.
Moonlight through the cheap curtains
catch the spit shine on his shaft
while his fist pumps his cock raw
like a wild animal.
His breath's heavy.
His hungry, mad eyes
are pinned between my spread legs,
my body positioned how he wants.
I’m not a person at all.
Just a body to get him off.
Just a prop in this fucked-up love song on replay.
I shut my eyes,
hold my breath,
and make myself a corpse.
I pretend I’m sleeping
because if I’m awake,
he’d use me.
And if I stayed asleep,
he’d still use me.
But sleep is the only way to look in control while losing it.
There's no winning,
only him finishing.
