Doing His Thing: A Poem

She forced herself to see something in him.

Tried to find something that she could hold on to

For an hour or two.

Find occasional warmth around his body.

Feel less alone, less needy and hungry,

Putting her skin on his.


She convinced her heart that she wanted this.

That never works.

Her body, the roots that had been put into her

From the very beginning, didn’t know that it had

Been tricked into a lie, the mind overthinking.


She kissed him without intent,

Smelled him without giving in,

In his arms, without truth, with hopelessness,

And artificial lust, desire that she thought could

Never be fulfilled. Her body scared and longing

At the same time.


Get a grip, get a grip, you’re already in it,

Know what you want, come on, what’s wrong

With you?

Nothing, everything, I don’t know, I had been too young.

I can’t remember how my dreams turned into nightmares.

How my desire was turned into abuse.

I didn’t say a thing. I didn’t ask.

I had no idea.

Now, you’re here, do something, try, there’s nothing wrong

With this. And yet, possibly everything. Stop thinking.

You’re not on trial.


And she let go, told her muscles to relax,

That she was okay with doing this

And then his sex hit her like a spear,

Without emotion, with destructive lust,

One bubble piercing another, hers would shatter,

His would take over hers.

And all the voices in her head started screaming.

When his chaos met hers, his inflicting actual pain,

His hopelessness.

His heartlessness in his body, digging into hers.

Making her pay for what went on in his head.

She, smothered by the faces he put on her.

Wordlessness, no idea of one another, whirlwind.

What did I do, it’s too late, it’s too late, no, no, no.

She told him to stop, to get away, he had no idea

How painful he was, he had been all in his head,

Hammering away, blind and careless, with an energy

That sets things on fire, her, to vanish, and he told her

That this is how city girls like it, and she snorted inside

Of herself, invisibly, soundlessly, then they are fucking lying

And you continue this shit show, why question that you’re the greatest?

Would she do the same thing? Say something to him?

How did she feel to him?

Would she feel like someone on the verge of drowning to him?

An abyss disconnecting from another abyss?

Would he even sense her heartache within her?

Or was he just there to get himself out?

To close his eyes and get it over with?


She knew that he would be the only one

Achieving his goal, managing to enjoy

This merge of bodies that felt like a massacre to her.


He would have finished the show if

She hadn’t cut it short, interrupted

The charade. Impossible to pretend.


How could she not enjoy this?

What’s wrong with her?

City girls, city girls, city girls

Like it like this. Who are you?

You’re all the same.

I treat you all alike. Do my thing.

Impale you, get off, jump on the next train.

You’re lying, right, playing a game, you like it,

Don’t you? I have this secret recipe. 

In out, in out, bam, bam, bam, city girls,

Village girls, one and the same. Don’t lie to me.


Yes, this had been his thing.

Nothing more to it.

No depth to him.

This is him. Doing his fucking thing.

Deal with it. Don’t expect anything else.

He doesn’t take directions. He does what he wants within her.

With her. What feels good to him. He doesn’t care about the rest.

He plays out the porn images in his head.

He wouldn’t listen. It was all her fault.

She was weird and impossible to please.


Go back to the city, stud.

woman in black and white striped blazer
Photo by Konstantin V. on





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