I want to sweat
Luke
Luke
Apr 5

I want to sweat
  like sex falls through music.
Let me dance
until my feet bleed
as rivers that feed
the thin ribbon of emptiness
found between my soul and heart.

Let me prick
at the scar that seals my passion.
Leech its barriers clean
with the beating of the floor
as I strike down,
enthralled by rhythm.
Let me empty
my spirit of poison.
Open my veins and cleanse
the shards once buttressed
by your memory.

Let me burn away sorrow
in the heat of rekindled fire.
Twist amongst the dancing;
  sweat like sex falls through music.

#dance   #sweat   #music   #sex   #rebirth  
Licking sweat- salty human essence.
Ryan James Webb
Ryan James Webb
4 days ago

Licking sweat- salty human essence.
Stinging; the drought consumes the lips,
The tongue, the throat.

The mind is invigorated by the burn.
Saliva coat consumed by the elements-
Grain sand, now salt.

Summer Novak
Summer Novak
Jul 15, 2012

Little beads of perspiration began to form all over his skin, tanned by the sun's fury.

Jonah stared up at the sky and uttered a sigh of relief when a gentle breeze interrupted the unrelenting heat of the day.

Though the views were nice and he was never at risk of not having something to record or take note of in his water color-stained journal, Jonah knew he was a prisoner on the ship…

make my chest feel
tight,
my legs feel
loose,
make my mind wander
as much as I'd
like your hands to.

Catbird Williams
Catbird Williams
Jun 18, 2013

There
is
a
sky
outside
   that some will
   never

               see
          beauty
                  in

in the
   factories
          they are
           trained
how to
           smile

  and
wear
it
    like
new
    shoes

Zulu Samperfas
Zulu Samperfas
Mar 31, 2012

On my chest
the small of my back
a place where my husband said
no other man should touch

Other places
more intimate

It shows the animal
that is me

Why do you ask why?

t savanna wrap around porches in summer sweat
Joshua Gilton
Joshua Gilton
Jun 13, 2011

Folding Foes, walk yourself down the Georgian line
Sweet savanna wrap around porches in summer sweat
Crushing companies sipping sweet tea on pedestals above me
Anchored at average is that old adage that it attached to the lattice that they try to get past us.
Nailed shoes to our feet and glued to our seat, living in lies and deceit, trying to force our defeat and to break the decree
Held solemnly,
And somberly,
By you
And by me.
Thee, the only lonely listeners of our own sweet soliloquies
In ripping tides of attention tearing through hate and affection,
Is found a pain never to mention for any chosen direction.
Now our learning gets lost in the lesson.
It started with tension, then moves to intervention, but ends with rejection.
Where now it lends to those friends that tend to your need to mend

sleep a little more, sweat a little less.
B Corkins
B Corkins
Nov 9, 2012

evening

Maria and Mr. Riner are sitting on my bed
tied up like garlands, against the wall
the words stew inside and I can't seem to
pour them out
but we three fools, sit and scribble regardless
staring blankly at the drooling clock
(persistent, in our memories).
the whitewashed cinderblocks are testament
to the number of walls
the quantity of clocks
this series of chairs
and if we close out eyes we expect to
wake up in heaven
but it's just the same old hell.

she says, keep writing
(if you feel inclined)
and slides her back into mine
but I've got no more letters in these fists
(so I'll lie and think for a bit).

she says,
I've never been a 'she' before...


morning

my coat sits in a bundle near the door
I've been trying to find a way to hang it
but I'm having mixed results, in fact
all this month I've been trying to make attachments
to these white,
white,
cinder block walls
with all manner of adhesives.
but these nightly sessions
have been fucking with the humidity

and every morning something new is on the floor.


all I can do is put them back up again.
try and
be a little more constant
with these climate fluctuations.
try and

sleep a little more, sweat a little less.

The death sweat invites the cold horrors
Flawless Contradictions

Fists bruised,trembling,  and drowning down
The death sweat invites the cold horrors
The curse of blinding pain
Ruthless and wicked
White mouths escaping outside
A cruel bird screams through the images
A soul of sorrow walks outside

derma puckering sweat globules
Meagan Moore

I taste your pulse
derma puckering sweat globules
aeriform vapor corpuscles
declaring your need
embellishing sacral curvature
in mellowed diaspora
I glide closer upon the sheets drapes
fingers supporting my upper weight
pressing half inch spurs into the mattress
dragging my whole self towards you
for a kiss

 
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