Release me
Nokyoung Xayasane

My phone lights up,
and I know
it is you.
You nasty,
filthy
creature.
Where did you come from?

The things you’ve said to me
make me wet with vomit.
I will come
to you
in the hours
before the dawn
lights up the sky.

What we have,
it lives in the dark.
It lives there,
doesn’t it?

When I wake
at three in the morning
to check my phone,
I hope you are there,
waiting for me,
anticipating me.

What will you have me do
this time?
What dirty, nasty thing
will you have me do?
I will do it.
And I will like it.

Tell me
how I should
position myself.
Tell me
which way
you like me.
And I will do it.
I will like it.

When I drink too much,
I watch the men around me
watching me,
wanting me
like animals.
They graze
their bodies
against me
as I make my way
to the washroom.

They are animals,
aren’t they?
Those nasty,
filthy creatures.
Make small talk with me.
Buy me a drink.
I know what they want.
What they all want.
Those nasty,
filthy creatures.

Bind me.
Make me
into something,
someone
you want.
It is performance.
It is
all performance.

But then
someone says
the releasing word.
And I am gone.

Set me free.
Say the releasing word.
Say it.
And I am gone.

(January 2016)