Hi, I'm a Slut: A Slam Poem | Savannah Brown

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• published: 10 Nov 2015
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become a patron: http://www.patreon.com/savbrown l i n k s / / my book: http://www.savbrown.com twitter: http://www.twitter.com/savannxhb instagram: http://www.instagram.com/savannxhb tumblr: http://savannxh-b.tumblr.com snapchat: @savannxhb business enquiries can be sent to brown.c.savannah@gmail.com. x w o r d s / / hi, i’m a slut. what? you can’t be surprised when you’ve spent my entire life deciding woman equals sexualize, in ninth grade a man told me i have good blow job eyes hi, i’m a slut. but what does that mean i’m unclean, i’m less pure, i sleep around, sure but isn’t that what you were begging for? hi, i’m a slut. and science disagrees but let’s ignore anatomy and joke that my vagina is wide enough to fit an entire football team or, even, your narcissism but no one’s is big enough for that you think an orgasm for you is like oxygen for me like when i am going down on you i’m actually sucking up life retrieving my very soul from inside your stomach and an orgasm for me is like—well, maybe. if you have time and since you can’t see it it probably doesn’t exist anyway i was probably faking it anyway, women don’t like sex anyway you’re pretty sure the clitoris is just a myth so when it comes to my pleasure no one really gives a shit unless i can come like a man because then i’m a fetish or if i’m a virgin. that makes me a fetish too but doesn’t that also mean i’m a prude everything i do is an invitation for your condemnation regardless of the angle of the delicate arch in my back marked down on your scale from zero to loose and if i had learned anything that didn’t have to do with how to make my hair fall daintily over my breasts or how to make my lips softer and more like a graveyard untouched and where grown men go when they feel dead inside or how to make my aura more alluring, but not too alluring that’s something a skank would do i’d tell you that when two opposing forces meet they cancel so it sounds to me like you just don’t want me to exist. i am raw meat in a slaughterhouse packaged according to what you are hungry for that day i am identified by my thighs and my moans and my sighs even though you keep telling me i shouldn’t be making noise in the first place keep your mouth shut unless i’m the one putting something in it it’s funny, the ones who cry whore the loudest are the ones who are thirstiest for my blood and my love only starts to matter and stops being make-believe, a fantasy when you’re watching lesbian porn but they quickly discover that actually what they’ve been missing this whole time is your cock you're looking to “experiment” in the same way i must be “experimenting” like a science fair where the prize for equating my entire personhood to your dick is that you get two women who are disgusted by how your breath reeks of desperation instead of just one you’re damn right my body is a temple i am the god it was built for i am the landlord and i can let whoever i want live inside it hi, i’m a slut and no, that doesn’t mean i am nothing but flesh to grab with your red stained hands that you’ve sterilized with excuses in case i shout so when i do you can tell everyone that hi, i’m a slut and no and that doesn’t mean i am nothing but sweat and blow job eyes hi, i’m a slut and no that doesn’t mean i am nothing but the girl who was asking for it hi, i’m a slut and no, and that doesn’t mean i am nothing