Dead submission

You breed silence and stillness,
to punish the shouts, confessions
of blood and body,
of you and me.
I hate the dirt, which you give me
at night, which I try to wash off,
which shines with guilt
which paints my flesh which crawls on me.
I am shy of your equilibrium
shy of your eyes staring at me
as I stand naked in pouring rain
as you watch the droplets run over me.
I will still submit to you silently
when you want me
for your resistance, for your luxury.
Then. You can have all pieces of me.