Fingers,
my fingers.

Shoved down my throat

Pressed into my eyes

Crammed into my ears

Gripping my the sides of my head

To stop the voices.

Fingers,
your fingers.

Love?

No,
Your fingers ****.

They pain me
and hurt me

Your fingers

shoved into my mouth

raking down my back

pressed into flesh

As if your fingers were razor-tipped branding irons.

Designed solely to make me scream.