Night on itself choking

Night on itself choking, with its thirsting, its heat, with that which I sit facing, smooth from hips upwards, hair combed backwards. Sitting I face the heat, shedding sweat and almost myself shedding, despite soaking in sweat, still, between my lips a cigarette as if it had been screwed there, smooth from hips upwards, head. Night on itself choking, with its thirsting, its heat, with that which I sit facing, from hips upwards, head smooth as astrid, as oyster. Night on itself choking, oyster strokes the sea-shell, it sheds sweat and almost itself sheds, pleases the eye, with its tail whips the beach, strokes the oyster, from hips upwards randy, random.