occasionally I find myself combatting a vampire —
an invidious, two-tongued, honey-tongued, languid, loving vampire —
whose drawl slips into my veins
to swirl in mini rings until
chaos
feeds my heart
and my body compresses
evading the sneaky caresses of
pure panic
bumping up against
liquid envy.
I cave,
but the lips are paper thin.
I would much rather
rest
in the pause:
