Visi D'arte

I still see him.
Late at night his face appears
to tease me, and smirk.
Big moon face, packed with perversion.
The archtype. The fucking posterboy!

He slimed his way on top of me
and I played Callas in my head.
"Visi D'arte", I screamed in my brain.
I never uttered a word.
Did'nt even really feel it.

Could'nt tell ya if ya asked me.
But I remember his sound
like an asthmatic boar,
shuffling his weight around.
I said to myself,
"Is this what its like in the movies?
the way the women struggle for a minute,
then endure,
the burden of filth?"

I left first. It did'nt hurt.
I just walked out. I did'nt run.
It is like after a dog attacks you
remain calm.
They love fear.
That is why he picked me.
I played Callas in my head.
"VISI D'ARTE", I screamed,
as I crept into my bed.