the dance floor is crowded and the floor shines like it was freshly polished.
dresses fitted tightly and loosely, dresses purple, blue, yellow, unladylike.
hands moving like torpedoes, high kicks, deep dips, choreographed nonsense.
twirls, spinning in tent like shapes, hips gracefully swaying as the trumpets scream.
waltzing my way back into reality, into the arms of a familiar stranger.
clouded with the strawberry coated thoughts of a busted up balcony with my dance partner swinging me into a trance.
must have been love in the folds on your forehead, must have been love in the lights reflecting on the dance floor, must have been love in that gloomy air upstate, must have been love where i never saw it appear before, must have been love; nothing else has ever made me feel the same brilliant surge of energy as your touch on my back.
it must have been true love.

the beat of drums pounded into her heart
releasing signals in her brain to jolt her head up and down to the rhythms.
she sang and screeched and carried on long into the night as she kissed the cheeks of some man who called her cute.
she returned home with his tattooed arm in her coat, clutching onto her for dear life; the way he should have treated his phone on the dance floor.
he flopped on the sofa, slurring his words like a sorority girl; hammered.
he blacked out belligerently drunk on her couch and at one in the afternoon he arose, coughing, residue on his fingers.
his face covered in drool from sleeping dramatically like a madman.
she handed him an advil, a glass of purified water, and her phone to call someone he had had any contact with before.
his face was pale and sickly; she could tell he felt crushed by the weight of his bewilderment.
his eyes, though strung out, were jet blue with a glimmer of teenage angst and a spark of the hopeful nature of a child in a field of dandelions.
he uttered few words and collapsed into the firm motherly hold of the couch, struck from exhaustion.
he gazed up at her, who was half naked since she had only been awake for three hours and had nowhere to go because she was too embarrassed to bare the bruises in the creases of her neck to the public.
but instead of speaking to her, he started gulping down the water after taking 3 pills of advil to make the pain disintegrate.
carefully, he set the chilly cup down and stood up slowly and steadily.
he gasped feebly, but managed to prop himself up on his two wobbly legs.
“you alright there?” she asked as casually as possible, to make him perceive her as less of a threat.
“where am i?” he inquired to this woman he faintly recalled.
“oh,” she giggled, “my house. you blacked out on my couch yesterday and i didn’t want to move you, you looked so peaceful, so i just left you there. hope you’re ok with that.”
“okay with that?” he asked gently.
“well yeah, i’d feel pretty worried if i ended up at a random strangers house on a saturday morning.”
he chuckled.
“well, to answer your question, yes i am quite confused, but i am a free spirit. so this is basically just a new experience i can add to my repertoire.”
she raised an eyebrow. “repertoire?” she pondered.
“well, i write music for a living.” he smiled sumptuously.
“you do?” her cheek bones got visibly higher and her eyes didn’t have the same troubled look to them as they did a few minutes ago.
“yes. i am not a very good musician, but my band and i get by. we play gigs at places. oh right, like last night. we were playing for fun and then...oh! a girl was kissing me. now i remember!” he was quite proud of himself for that.
“well, that’s the funny thing,” she started, “i was the one who was kissing you.” she laughed briskly.
“you were?” he asked, totally perplexed.
“of course. i didn’t know you were playing for that place last night, i thought you were a waiter or a pedestrian or something. ooh, or an alcoholic!”
“ouch.” he grinned delicately.
“no, no offense though.”
“too late, i already took it to my cast iron heart,” he joked.
she laughed.
“well, you were one cute waiter at that,” she stated seductively.
he smiled with his lips pushing into his mouth a little bit.

“thanks for everything. the couch, the advil, the talk. maybe you should see me another time. i play at bars all around the city. i’d love to see more pretty girls come around and hype me up once in a while.” his grin turned into a beam.
“no problem, i suppose i would like to spend some time around people who are rich and aren’t fun sponges,” she joked effortlessly.
“i can be sometimes.” her little giggles poured out of her mouth.
“well, i’ll see you around. hit those drums!” she called out to him as his uber arrived.
“sure thing!” he waved as he entered the car.
and for the first time in forever, his heart caused him to feel more emotions than his wicked hangover.

IF ALL THE PLACES I WENT WERE STRETCHED OUT ON MY PALMS, I’D SCREAM FOR THE PLACES I HAVEN’T GONE, THE EXPERIENCES I NEVER EXPERIENCED. I COULD SCREAM AND SHOUT AT THE WORLD, BUT ALL IT WOULD EVER DO IS TOSS ME IN THE DUNGEON OR WRING ME OUT LIKE A WASHCLOTH USED TOO MANY TIMES. I FEEL THE SHEETS I AM GRIPPING TIGHTLY ONTO, I FEEL MY HEART SURGING AND RELEASING AND I AM A HUMAN. A LIVING BREATHING DEPRESSED ANXIETY FILLED ORGANISM. IF ALL THE PLACES I HAVEN’T GONE REVOLTED AGAINST ME, I’D BE IN FOR A ROUGH RIDE, BUT THE WORLD DOESN’T RUN LIKE THAT. THE PEOPLE WITH MACHINES INSTEAD OF HEARTS AND SCOWLS INSTEAD OF SMILES ARE TAKING OVER, THEY ARE POISONING THE SOIL, DAMPENING THE DRYWALL. THEY SELF DESTRUCT TO THE SOUND OF THE TRUTH OR THE WORD “RIGHT.” THEY WEAR DARK SPRAY PAINTED SUNGLASSES TO COVER THEIR EYES FROM THEIR ISSUES ARISING. THEY ARE GUILTY. THEY ARE CRUEL. THEY AREN’T THE NICE KIND HEROES FOR MANKIND THEY MAKE THEMSELVES OUT TO BE. THEY ARE ALIVE, THEY DO NOT GET TO SPEAK FOR THE UNBORN OR FOR THE PLACES THEY’VE NEVER STEPPED FOOT IN. YEARS AND CENTURIES AGO, EXPLORERS WERE LOOKING FOR THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH, INSTEAD THEY FOUND THE FOUNTAIN WHERE HALFWITTED ADULTS MADE LIFE THREATENING DECISIONS FOR THE YOUTH OF TODAY AND TOMORROW AND CALLED IT FAIR. THERE IS NO FOUNTAIN OF SALVATION, THERE IS NO FOUNTAIN FOR THE YOUTH IN ANY COUNTRY OR PLANET IN THIS UNIVERSE. THERE IS NO REST. AND THERE IS ALWAYS UNREST OVER THE RIGHTEOUS WAYS. PEOPLE ALWAYS FIND A WAY TO ASSOCIATE WITH DEMONS AND LABEL IT “FUN AND MORALLY CORRECT.”

i don’t crave your big green eyes
but you’re using them to watch over somebody else.
i know this relationship is over
but i wish i could’ve ended it with somebody else.
and i don’t like that you’re sharing drinks with another woman
who sells her body to get money
wouldn’t you have liked to be with somebody else?
she has your favorite songs on cds and i never did
i wish you could’ve ended up loving somebody else.
somebody who’s rude to waiters, somebody who is only good for a first date or
at least somebody else.
now i have to hide my cold hands under my winter coat
cause you’re too busy holding somebody else’s.
your dog still loves me more
but he has to spend some time with somebody else.
just like you went and forgot me
cause it was more beneficial to see yourself with somebody else.
now you’re happy go lucky
since you’ve replaced me with somebody else.
lonely eating ice cream
while you’re shoving it down in the house of somebody else.
perhaps, i don’t miss your company
i’ve just been enjoying it more with somebody else.
or maybe this is hopeless
and i should let you make love to somebody else.

i don’t want your body
but i hate to think about you with somebody else.

snapped out of existence
in a rustic flannel
lying at the bottom of a pit
far into the mushy ground
the core of the earth
pinned against my ribs
lips as cold as the Antarctic
stomach as empty as words
left to rot
as rain descends
on my emaciated corpse