An insect. That crawls upon my body, except I can't quickly swat it away Without causing attention to myself and everyone noticing that my white ******* are pulled all the way down to my ankles.
My lips are dry so I bite them. Knuckles whitening while I hold onto the grip-strap And I hear his heavy breathing against my neck. I look at the tunnels, quickly passing by. 'Maybe this will end fast too?'
Naive of me to think so.
Sliding into my flower Like a toxic, little aphid. Stuck on my sticky leaves As petals are parted and
I pour out of the open doors in Shinjuku station, And run out, wiping a tear on my sleeve. I tug up my decency While I run to the ticket booth. Angry foreigner was yelling at the old man who sits within. The clock above strikes eight. I decide that it's not worth it. I won't tell anyone. It doesn't matter. Could be worse. It's okay. I'm okay.
I wasn't okay.
I recall a time where I was molested by a pervert in the trains of Tokyo when I was in middle school.