Bouncing, Snorting, Dancing, Crying

His sheets weren’t navy if that counts for anything.

our eyes lock and my stomach lurches. he loves me because i fuck like a rabbit when im on coke and he has a lot of coke and i love to fuck like a rabbit. hard and fast. pornographic, in the real sense of the word. he hits me. i get fucked and i get slapped and oh wow i just love it. the drug concoction wears off. my pale, sweaty skin is sticking to his white sheets. plaid pillow case. at least it isn’t all navy. he could use a headboard though. slip out of bed, try not to crash onto the floor of his apartment. i need to get back to my dorm. i move my panties to the side and stick my fingers inside myself. i take them out, inspect them, there’s blood. vaginismus continues to haunt me but coke makes me feel like i can do anything, no matter how painful. i can fuck like a rabbit, i can be the girl they want. the girl who’s down, the girl who puts herself aside for them. to please them to be used. and when my jaw is shaking and i’m bouncing, moaning, mouth agape, i know it’s what i dreamed of. what i wrote about what i fantasized about what i knew would happen. destruction of myself, working against my senses and for the pit in my stomach. bouncing, snorting, dancing, crying, loving. once it wears off i become nauseous and aware. aware of the vibrating hum in my body and dryness of my mouth. anything to take it away a pill a hit a swig please give it to me so i don’t have to face it. take it away from me and give it to the next desperate unfeeling irrational eccentric bitch on campus. maybe she’ll handle it better than i have been.