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poetry by Sophia Tempest Parsons


can’t tell if you look at me

with desire or

contempt I’ve barely

slept in weeks been eating

houseflies I’m naked

in the kitchen

my whole body

is a wound I’m

rubbing salt all over it

getting ready for the oven

on conditioning

poetry by Sophia Tempest Parsons

CONTENT WARNING: graphic depictions of rape & sexual assault. please read at your own risk.

on conditioning

I shouldn’t have

to talk about it

I feel like all we do

is talk about it but if we’re

doing this any way

If I’m living this any way

then when I was 17

this guy fucked me on

his girlfriends brothers floor and

to be fair I was totally

obsessed with him I totally

wanted him

but not like that

and it hurt and it

didn’t really work

but he wanted to keep trying

so he did

I’d only slept with one guy before I

thought it was normal


a couple months later

I started dating this guy

when speculating what I would

be like drunk

he said “I bet you’re a nasty fuck”

and if by nasty he meant


then I guess he was right

once he fucked me in the ass without asking

without lube while his

friends played super smash bros downstairs

I cried and I

begged him to stop

but he wanted to keep trying

so he did

I thought it was normal albeit

painful but isn’t that just

part of the deal?

you get taken from and get

nothing in return?


one time I was

fucked up on bars

and he

fucked me in the face

until I threw up

he told me I was

good for nothing

and he meant it

and I loved it

the only time he ever made me cum

was to that memory

no one’s asking for it but I

literally asked for it because

I hated myself

so much he made me

hate myself so much

and if it was going to be like this

anyway then why not

lean in?

and who else

would ever want me when I’m

good for nothing?


so when a very charming

german exchange student invited me

to his room

to watch youtube videos and he

held my wrists down with one hand and

fingered me

with the other

while I politely asked to be allowed

to leave he noticed I was

very wet and said “it doesn’t feel like

you want to leave” all smug like of

course I was wet he was

scaring me


Sophia Tempest Parsons

Sophia Tempest Parsons is a poet, Sagittarius and Texan currently in Brooklyn. Her work has previously appeared in OMEGA, Maudlin House, Crooked Teeth Magazine and others. Her first chapbook, a lamb hangs by its own foot, is forthcoming with Ghost City Press in 2019.

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