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My desire punished. My desire rendered repugnant. My desire maimed by another's ego, his shame, his words + mouth + tongue whipping me wrong. What I thought was wanted was not, contorting himself, he says, around my desire to turn it into something he can enjoy but still can't get off on. My desire gone limp. My body that never knew to hate itself learning how, being taught. My body shutting itself up, a now shrunken head blind to its own desire. It is too hungry he said, my body. It is greedy + it rubs his mind raw. He needs his sleep. + my body takes it all too far, too long, too much. My body of burden. My desire a chore. When I ask him what would please him, he says it kills the mood.



















