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.