Blood rushes to your head
And takes over, controls you.
The buzzing left in your ears from his mouth drowns out everything.
You try to move but your legs go weak;
Bone is not bone, but more blood
Limp and liquid.

You let him hold you up so he'll hold you down later.

You discover swollenlipsracingheart is not a cliche
It is a medical condition and you are a victim.

The cure is more
-more hands, more tongues.

Breathless, you breathe him in.