Would you call the taste humid

Warmth and more warmth the air
swells with itself the water the fare 
inarticulate air you swim in yourself
you leave your self on the shelf 
to be picked up without intent
to read we your audience feed
on your thick existence your viscous
pretensions to become party to our
parts and export yourself into our 
exhalations after offering a little
generation to our lunges our pink
indoor process our hearts 
push your product across
the network of hands and feet
and organized dance until
we sweat together again