Molly

wavs climbing ceilings

hot genitals tingling

and I want

 to sing

 

she’s here i tell you

here

point         turn         nothing

 

the music changes

bolero I imagine

guns at my sides

boots clopping on wood

spurs

 

sweet jive with the drums

hips bouncing pouncing like

a plucked strings chord

a

       bass

 

drops-

 

 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

 

-wism-lism

 

the others join

grabbing fun parts

in jest then in sex

a vaganalorgy of sorts

and the music blared on

dancing and fucking

until

 

             , do we part.

 

 

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