the drunken dancer
mingling between selves
a cocktail party for her pieces
her hips-
rhythm
her mind-
beats.

a bit of elixir
to smooth out the kinks
to rust through the chains
to flood through the pristine valleys
detached and forever
in(dependent) on the music
on her self
on her longing
for growth
only stars are supposed to explode like this.

not for the others
though they stare
impressively shocked
mindfully drooling
overwhelmed by her unknown
disconnecting disintegration.

she is a movement
she is a self
she is unwinding
her taste for freedom
hemorrhaging out
covering her
covering the night
in gold.

you have to know this feeling
for Dionysus himself watches and laughs.