my shoulders tremble, creaking as you lay on my back like a dead weight. my eyes mutate, stretched, wet, black slits, darker than you remembered, when you pull my hair hard in a tight, tugging fist. my neck exposed, bruised in places where fidgeting fingers pinch, where palms press and where thick teeth clamp with such intent.

but be it my own doing, the brunt to bear for standing on tables, stamping my feet and hollering. daring you to try it.