while you stare at this page
you can’t possibly see
the strings that now connect
you to me
watch me pull and yank
your porcelain puppet-
eyes line
by line
feel me slide my ink
stained fist
under your sweaty shirt
inside your broken back
my dummy
when I speak
you speak
when I breathe, you
breathe, you’re going to need it
as I rip your
jeans at the seam
and rape you
choking your stolen flesh
with the power of possession
don’t worry
you’re safe
as can be
as can be
sitting in your chair
it’s only my fingers you feel
running through your hair
a last caress to remind
that before I go
to feel me
burn
in your mind
in your mind
that this second
this moment
I’ve made you
A great writer once told me art should be uncomfortable, and that's exactly what my aim was for this. An homage to Bukowski's 'Splash', 'Mine' forcefully tells the reader of the power they unknowingly give to an artist every time they read, watch, or listen. Yes it's creepy, yes it's too much, but think of this: Would it be the same any other way?
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