Twirling on an oil slicked floor


Faster
Faster

Never stopping to see for sure

Faster
Faster

If what you want is the cure

Faster
Faster

For your pulsing heart
Faster Faster
Growing close
FasterFaster


STOP


as you slip
and your feet
are no longer
beneath you
and in slow motion face the ground
beneath you
and it swallows you up
the darkness intruding
on your vision
closing in
on your dreams
as you slip
past the incongruities
of destiny and fate
of love and lust
of passion and gentleness
and all
Is Still.