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Because this blog features stories of interpersonal and sexual violence, we offer this *content warning* as a way of caution. We also ask that you do not reproduce any of the content below, as the authors of these personal stories are anonymous, and cannot give consent for their stories to appear anywhere other than this blog or at a Project Dinah-led SpeakOut event.

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

A Bag of Ketamine

I lost my virginity to a bag of ketamine
Back in high school, when snorting shit was my scene
I was with a friend 
In a room on a bed
He chopped up a long skinny line and said,
“Babe, you go right ahead”

Five minutes later,
My body fell into the sheets
Like a limp dishrag in a pile of laundry
I never saw it coming 
Until he locked the door that led
To me lying on that bed
Then, I heard him say to me
“Good shit like this isn’t free”

It came on real fast, that long line of K
It melted my legs and weighed me down
It snatched my sight away
I was no longer in that room lying on a bed,
No longer with a friend
But everything he did, 
I could see happening in my head
And I heard every word he said

He put my rag hand on his cock
But my fingers couldn’t grip 
Then he tried to put it in my mouth
And my tongue was numb
And the smell of his dick made me sick
He said he could tell by the way I fucked
That I must be new at this

As soon as he was in me
For just a moment, my eyes cried
“Please don’t…”
Whispered words 
Trapped inside my mind
But the ketamine held my mouth
Those words never made it out
Just the exhale of my breath
When the K floated me to the ceiling 
Up to the very top
I saw me lying on my back
Lifeless on a bed
And his body on me, humping like a dog

When he finished I was alone
A limp dishrag covered in cum
“Put your clothes back on; I’m done,”
Before he left the room, zipping his jeans he said,
“You weren’t such a bad lay;
I hope we can still be friends”
No one noticed when I left the party,
In my sticky cum-covered shirt, 
No one told me that my sweatpants 
Were on backwards and inside out

I don’t remember how I got home 
Oh, I hope I didn’t drive
But I got there and felt a little surprised
That the kitchen looked the same
The dinner dishes still in the sink
Under the soft nightlight, they remained
The papers-clutter-books 
Were still strewn on my bedroom floor
None of it had changed

In the bathroom, I peeled off
The cum-stuck shirt from my chest
And looking in the mirror at myself
I noticed 
My pants were on backwards-inside-out
“You stupid wasted slut—can’t even dress yourself!”

Even after I showered 
Until my skin turned red
My body felt like an old dishrag
The kind that never washes clean,
That outa be thrown out
So I tucked my body into bed
My scrubbed-dirty-dishrag self

I never told him I didn’t want to
I never said no or put up a fight
Or stop! This isn’t right
I said yes to snorting lines that night
With a friend in a room on a bed
Back in high school, when snorting shit was my scene

I guess that means
I agreed 
To give up my virginity
For a bag of ketamine 
Because good shit like that isn’t free

Yeah, good shit like that 
Isn’t free.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

This was one of the most beautifully written and emotionally moving poems I've ever read.

As "victims" we tend to blame ourselves for everything that surrounds our ordeal--sure, you could have gone without the ketamine, could have gone without being in that room, could have done a million other things, but you did NOT ask for that to happen, you did NOT make that happen, and you are NOT responsible for the fact that it did.

As I read the poem however, I realized that you don't include many of your own emotional reactions.
I hope you feel as connected to this community as I do, because if you read through other testimonials I hope that you see that you're not alone.

Despite not acknowledging it, I want you to know that not only do I understand your pain, but we all do. I believe you, and I wholeheartedly believe that you did not deserve this.

Anonymous said...

This is amazing-- the poem, the emotion, the truth. Not what happened. Thank you for writing this.