I'm tenaciously sleeping.

Can't you tell, I'm avoiding you with unconsciousness? The ploy seems to be failing as once again your monster truck lips smear across mine, oblivious of the orange road cone stubble. I'm lying here wondering why I'd let you chew away, clumsily peeling back my poutless labia with your tongue. Looking for some undigested piece of affection perhaps still lodged between my teeth.

Caustic injections couldn't reanimate me - at least my libido, to the seductive charm of morning breath - no substitute for smelling salts. No wincing, I won't splutter back to life. Instead I'll continue to focus on my breathing. Scan the somewhere else horizons within 'fridge door eyes.

Fumbling, bumbling ... the only thing hard, is my suspension of disbelief. Failing to find amorousness in my premolars, why would my lifeless corpse somehow invite itself to be pumped like an air mattress?

But the halfhearted half-horniness saves me, because you're just playing with your food. A part of you still needs my permission. I'm the congealed fat in your casserole. Without my oral consent -

You can not reheat me

refusing to wake, your lips are corroded oven seals, hemorrhaging the critical temperature away in one sided kisses.

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