He was beastly restless I wanted to disperse from the room, throw myself over the ledge which gaped onto soulless streetlights.
The LED would have made my black hairs so iridescent if you let my lie down there dead, parched neatly over the drains.
Then you slapped me and I was on the floor in between your legs, my hair wrapped around your right hand and treading over your knee. I was ornate in red lipstick, I was your doll, you were my player. I was the robot I was the programmed one I was a cell paralysed in a body. He sculpted his arms around my torso, his fingers melted into the curve of my jawline. As if to kiss me, yet the cigarette butt disintegrated into my left cheek leaving him permanently there. Pain or pleasure I forgot; I was so immune to his presence forever lingering on my skin in scars.