Litkicks Message Board Archive

quite soaked

Posted to Action Poetry

I choked on you in my sleep,
your back was warm.

It is the circulation of blood.
The 84° radiator behind the bed.
The rush of blood to the head
erect, my eye rubbing on the sheets.

Create fire.

Squat on all fours, hop like the frog.

Burn and then inhale the toxins.

Pick up the phone goddamit.