Paul Tanner



we did it

with the window closed

and the little plug-in heater

going full whack.

afterwards we lay marinating

in our puddle.

my eyes boiled in their sweaty sockets.

the ceiling vibrated, purple.

everything looked purple

and hummed:

the walls,


even the air was starting to bleed.

I couldn’t breathe

and I didn’t mind.

I was being choked

in the aftermath

and it felt like I was still cumming,

like I’d cum and choke

into eternity.

I do like our musk, she said

and did a theatrical sniff of the air,

her nose pointing up like a

cartoon character sniffing out a delicious pie.

we’re proper fucking potent together, us!

and lit a fag.

the smoke of her duty-free Marlborough Light 

baked us

in her humming purple box. 

I’ve been

being cooked alive

ever since. 

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