Amidst the throb of bodies and bass, one,
The moon and chill call me.
A kind of playful peace and lightness that draws
Its fingers across my bare skin.
I crave it’s cleansing touch.

Like smoke rising, finally free and full
Of cathartic, selfish purpose.
For who watches it dance and wilt?
Who cares to miss it where it’s gone?
Ethereal by nature, does it long to feel in this realm?

In myself I write letters to no one.
The pages I would read to you.
The lyrics I would share,
So you might feel the way the words move me,
The purge I feel when I scream them.

Reverberations of truth
In places so deep and raw
They shock me. They scare me.
I want to give you this, as I give you myself.
Feel it and feel me.