commencant.

as he lay there,
a bit too hot in a sweater that needed to be washed,
thoughts not racing,
he began to love.
it began in his left hand, warm and calm,
trickling, drips from an icicle.
it spread slowly, thoroughly,
syrup through a sponge.
dense.
down, in and through the muscles.
it almost choked him as it attacked his neck,
hands from nowhere strangling.
and he closed his eyes
smiled
and was
smothered.