My hips sway themselves mental
to hysteric light show alcoholism,
neon flashing, fenced-in abominations,
ID card question mark curiosities,
treble clef screaming punctualities,
I don’t care what I’m wearing,
or if mascara drips down my face
with sweat and whiskey,
I don’t care who’s dancing with me,
photographer flashbulb crushes,
and dyslexic t-shirt corrupters,
and perfectly trimmed beards,
dark as the middle east,
framing ancient-youth smiles,
I don’t care if I’m dancing alone,
I don’t care about anything but the beat
snaking its way through my body,
my hair flying frantic,
my hands on my own body,
you can’t touch me,
but I’ll touch myself,
the querulous whine of the track,
stinging my booze-soaked veins
which fight to free themselves from my skin,
a perilous, demanding waltz,
my god trips his way through ashes;
to mourn is to
to dance until
collapse.
oh, whirling dervish, did you reach religious ecstasy?
fantastically written. music, alcohol and a free soul. nothing quite like it.
SaWEET! BAM there is some muscular language in there.
You made me laugh, thank you!
You’re welcome!
You might dig this blog that I danced over to right after yours. Diggin’ the theme… though dancing is much mo betta. http://grosenberg.wordpress.com/2013/04/19/id-rather-suffer/comment-page-1/#comment-3966
“which fight to free themselves from my skin”
Very powerful.
Music can be a drug all into its self
Sweaty.
music
always finds the muse
so amusing
i always enjoy your wordplay : )
If you don’t care, then I can’t.
caring is rarely the point.
Sorry to hear that. Guess I live a misinformed life. With or without care, you move me nonetheless.
Wow. Frenetic and hypnotic. Intense and sweaty. I like.
I agree completely!
Fantastic.
Jennifer
Thank you, both of you.
So they still play REO Speedwagon in your town, huh?
😛