The blue screen is drowning me.
My mind flips like a fish
trying to breath in all this
stale air.
The discontentment is feral.
It draws back its lips to snarl
and the teeth are sharp and dribbling,
the gums pink and flecked with bile.
The fear in this room, reeks and spreads
like wild fire. It laps up the walls and over
my head. My cheeks are flushed. I press them
against the milky coolness of your thighs.
How can someone, anyone sustain
such short breaths and such a wracking,
howling fear? “Lick your lips and calm yourself”
you say and, at last, the darkness fades.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 