wavs climbing ceilings

hot genitals tingling

and I want

 to sing


she’s here i tell you


point         turn         nothing


the music changes

bolero I imagine

guns at my sides

boots clopping on wood



sweet jive with the drums

hips bouncing pouncing like

a plucked strings chord






 out from underneath

footing’s fucked

a voice freaks up

we freak out

I tear off my sheets

crump naked down the halls

writhing rhythm-ism




the others join

grabbing fun parts

in jest then in sex

a vaganalorgy of sorts

and the music blared on

dancing and fucking



             , do we part.



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