i don’t know if it’s the noise
or the sweat
or the feeling of hands pressing on my neck
that wakes me up

but there i was, strapped to a hospital bed
pushed into the forbidden oblivion
of all the kind men who punched me in the face
when all i asked for was forgiveness
for not acting as if it was arousing

you’re giving me a big grin
as you lay your scrubs on the floor
and tell me how much i wanted it
but am i really enjoying it
if i wake up looking for your blood under my nails?

as you unzip my jeans
i scream for my mother,
since she’s as good at killing men
as I am at reaching out to murderers

you'll ask yourself why I can't sleep
but please, don't make me sleep ever again
and i'll never look you in the eyes once more
you'll tell yourself I'm just autistic
but the truth is to this day
I'm still afraid of the wrong men