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Have you ever noticed that occupied outlets make sounds?
If you lay next to one and listen
really listen block out background noise
you’ll hear the faint breathing raspy whisper of its voice.
Are those muffled outbursts from joy or
from having no choice being shoved into
long prongs in fast and what seems like forever?
Surely it’s the former it likes it
that’s why it lays there so naked
on the wall cream skin its cover
showing all the right parts for easy access.
It doesn’t fight back just lets it happen
see that’s why it’s there to exist for the pleasure
it wants it stop being scared say you want it.

This entry was posted in: poetry
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