

Cold Hot NothingCold grey groping up my legs It's sweet relief,the simplest of things I often think of you in times of discomfort- I crave you more than icy fingers spreading out, pressing up against my back, my neck my face flushed with heatCold Hot Nothing
I think of you and I twitch I groan silently In my distraction,flutter knocked over coffee cup
A man in a baseball cap dripping with sweat heaves a coin into my lap, small pitiful glance at the vessel
bastard.
waiting not begging exhausted not deficient lazy not unclean
chasing a