Inhale
his stale still-born basement apartment draft
We echo
two naked feral children
twisted up in his clean sheets.
He's twisted up in my hair.
My tongue twists itself behind my teeth
swells, and I can't remember what it was to speak.
I am drugged with morning lethargy
Drunk from his bed
Inebriated by his esoteric corner of the world.
Exhale
my intrusive obligations, commitments, and compulsions.
Through the bedding I can see
scrolled across his arm
(in a font I love)
"fight apathy"
Inhale.
Exhale.
I'm not going anywhere today.
Sounds like things are getting heated...or, rather, are heated. Hot stuff. And incredibly, incredibly sweet.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the fun Friday night. It was good to see you.
Elle. I've been listening to CocoRosie. And though at first I was like....wtf....I must admit I think I get it.
ReplyDeleteWe must do another night. I shall reach you when I go out on my next Rangerventure.
:]