Gothic

Wondering
if you want to fuck me
does that make you like him
or him like you
and if you have any idea how much
I hate
when you use that line on me
that bullshit about 'who's your daddy'
You don't know what it does to me
(be a good girl for daddy)
or how it sounds like screams
(be quiet be good be quiet and no and no and no)
in my head or how it makes me wish
I were more than only dead and replaced
hollow and defaced
a living disgrace,
a burial tomb below a waist land
a monument to power
implicitly prescribed for feeling like a man.

But it can't be your fault
because you don't know what I can't show
what I can't say about who
came first and whose blame lasts
and the reasons why I dwell
in the past for nights on end
and night after night seems to
begin with a conversation that
(never happened never happened)
co-created for me the monstrosity that's lived
in my place under the surface
That's where I learned
(it never happened never happened)
not because it would be wrong
to mangle this waste of genetic space
but because there's nothing there
but a liar who puts an uglier
face on a family
of untouchables.