Toward Supreme Love in Self – (This Is an Endarkened, Feminist, New Literacies Event)
How I got over (Sash speaks, with help from Laish: A poem)
How I got over
The Muthafucka came in me three times that night. He asked me if I liked it. Kept callin’ me “baby.” Can you believe that shit?? After I took that hit. From his rock hard fist.
God. His sweat was everywhere. His mouth was cupped over my ear. He wouldn’t shut up and he spit in my hair. Uhh, God. I could smell the whisky on his breath. It was oozin’ outa his pores. Like a mist. Drippin’ from his skin. Was it gin? …Oh, who the fuck knows. Couldn’t remember what he ordered at dinner. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout what he was doin.
He just kept movin’.
In. Out. In. Out. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder.
Kept askin’ me if I could feel him. Can you believe that shit?? Unfuckingbelievable. I wanted to say HELL NO, you weak, dumb, tiny Muthafucka. His little-ass dick kept pokin’ me like a knife. It for damn sure didn’t match his body. Surprised the shit outa me.
Cause he was fat as hell. And tall. And strong.
Real strong. He pinned me down with his arm…like a club. Laid it straight across my chest, too close to my throat, so I almost choked. He leaned into that shit. So I couldn’t move. That fat Muthafucka knew better than to let me move. He knew I would kill his ← 261 | 262 → dumbass if I could get an...