Pinpricks | Poems that Suck

You were drunk on fine spirits,
on the precipice of belligerence,
trapping me between your body
and the door - its knob in my back.

"What the fuck are you doing?"
I asked calmly cautious, but 
could see that your pupils
were pinpricks, even in the dim.

"Tell me all about it. Every 
little detail. I need to know
the who, what, why, how, when
of that stupid video."

And I realized I was being
mocked; for talking too much, 
for needing someone to share
stream of consciousness with.

It confirmed what I'd suspected
for so long; that I'm not human
to you - just a possession that 
you can molest whenever you want. 

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