Not-a-Blowjob Poem

I have gagged on your insecurities,

Suffocated in the air of your presence,

Swallowed with grace the contact of your striking movements,

Like chalk dust coating my throat until I dare not speak,

Your spit the only well you offer me to drink.

I hold my breath.

Dare not speak as yolk leaks out from my exposed pores,

From the egg shells I tread always too heavy on.

I am weighed down,

By ash left over from your last set of tremors,

Tremors that shower in still-burning cinders.

I hold your earthquake in the pit of my stomach,

Bloat myself on butterflies turned moths turned dust covered skeletons,

Burp out smoke signalling a spark you keep trying to extinguish.

So just,

Suppress me, compress me,

Suck the life out of me,

So I may flitter high above it all,

Above the corpse you promised you loved.