the flashing lights- the way they catch
your eyes and hold them for a breath
dancing to the sound you lose the track-
who the body who the beat who the music who the man?
colliding they create the perfect storm.
the bathroom tiles tell tales
of quick cut lines lip kit shines girl gang crimes
the smoking room’s a shrouded beacon
but the dancefloor draws you back
so mortal yet so vivid
you find yourself
outside the world, inside the whirl
parties so secret
nobody’s there