The artists

Genderfuck

"you look so pretty!"
The artists smear the nauseating pink paint across my skin,
I cringe at the burn they leave,
they are just feather touches,
I yip out for them to stop,
They smooth their hands across my thighs, arms, and back,
They are attempting to comfort,
I then swallow back my reserve and bark,
I am done,
That I am satisfied with their art,
They step back to glower at me,
One then grips my face in their hands and lathers my lips in paint,
I splutter out an inquiry,
What are they doing?
The others grab the buckets,
Pink washes over my vision,
The force of the impact sends me tumbling,
I can't breathe...