3am Guilt

When he comes down to earth,
From his chandeliers,
At 2 am,
You’ll be startled-
And convince yourself you’ve seen the devil,
By 3.

When he touches your throat,
You’ll tense up and choke,
On imagination and lust,
Apparitions concocted from ceiling fan dust.

When he penetrates your womb,
You’ll scream of pain,
Drenched in juice,
In your bedroom,
Screaming is no use,
You’re the only one on this plain-
Of personal sexual abuse.

When you’re alone,
You’ll create him to blame,
At 3am, when you feel ashamed,
For touching yourself for the past hour.


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