And we slept on sand.

She said, "No foreplay. Get on with it."
And you can see it in her eyes.
No passion.
Empty brown balls of hate and disbelief.
"What happened to you?" I said.
And he didn't hear a thing.
He ravaged her metal jaw,
Her long neck.
She was rusting and he didn't care.
Desire was louder than the explosions around.
And I take back what I said.
You can't see it in her eyes.

"What happened to you?"
Still no answer.
Just fake gasps of total surrender
to the fact that she's ruined and she likes it.
"I fake it." She said.
"He wouldn't notice; he likes it."

And you can see the browns disappear.
How can be the white so haunting?
"What happened to you?" I asked again.
And he looked at me.
No.
He looked at my direction. Not at me.
He doesn't care like everyone else.
And I see her lying there.

Blank face.
You couldn't even read.
Bruised arms, bruised legs.
I just kept on watching. And I don't know
what's wrong with me.
I could save her from herself.
I could save her from his rough hands
and from the lusts of everyone else.
I kept on asking,
"What happened to you?"
And I let her eyes penetrate mine.

Maybe I don't really care.
Maybe I'm just obsessed. I can feel her inside.
Her hopelessness and self contempt.
And I desire her.
Everything happening.
Her dissolution, his ignorance, and my obsession
Maybe I just like it all.