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Command is lost the moment you said yes
But you did not really mean yes
You were told since the day you stepped your baby toe into this universe that your answer must be a 'yes' by now; killjoy exceptions:
And nobody will listen to the silent screams that are drowned and not heard
It was consensual
It was a mistake
It was your fault
And yet, you, in the worst way, will feel like an animal being tortured into submission
As your body freezes and you wait for redemption
Your mind blocks the sound of your own innocence being drained before you even knew you were still innocent
Consumed by the media's drive and the stigma to get rid of what separates you from a girl and a woman
And the twenty minutes of action paralyzes you
But you cannot speak of this in such a driven world where your friends talk about how lucky you are to lose the very thing you cherished
But did not know you cherished until it was lost
And you cannot breathe a word of the torturous monster that consumes every cry for help that leaves your throat
Because no one understands that
You were not ready
You were not ready
You will never be ready
But you were convinced that by now you needed to be ready
So intoxicated on fear and wine that you were petrified and could not form the words "No"
While your mind ravaged and shrieked in terror as you were held limp and lifeless waiting for it to be over
The one incident shaped the rest of the way you envision your future
And you cannot cry out for help of the nightmares that consume your mind
Because it was your fault
Because you said 'yes' before you were ready
And when you realized you weren't your soul had already been damaged
Your flesh had ripped in two and the drink that was swelling in your body and drawn to every corner of your body immobilized
And it was too late to say 'no'.
When lover questions you why you stopped calorie counting while looking into the roundness of your face pushing back into the dough of your neck
You pause, the sustenance-- the la faim oubliée freezes midair as your neck turns to look into her eyes, into the past
Your mind is hurtled back into the time when standing on a scale meant nervous flutters down to the exhausted stomach that worked day and night to shut everyone out that only wanted to help it
To the time when you floated around rooms, lighter than Anemoi himself,
Sharp/thin/cutting/bone/metal slithering, winding, tightly around your thin frame, waiting for the right moment to tighten and execute
To the time when the burn of hard liquor and acridness was all too familiar
From the first moment when you read the words "118"
To the last moment when you stepped off the scale that creaked and moaned under your weight every time you stepped onto it even though the numbers "98" flickered onto its LED screen,
burning out quickly as it suspected you might if
not collect yourself
And you pause.
Look slowly down at the greasy sneer dripping in your hands
And you wonder when the last time you stepped on your scale was
And you wondered how a flesh eating//stomach exiling disease could slowly turn into
A glutinous monster consuming for pleasure, mocking the disease, screaming, laughing into its face as it forced its terrors deeper down the tortured caves