This is my first post, it's still being hammered out. I want to keep it short, though and to the point.
The Bar
My three seater sofa, a bar.
The bite has gone off of lucky number four.
Strobe lights as my body hits the floor-
music of a race car.
We dance atop the layer of mess-
I haven't got a thing to wear.
The thumping gives the sleeping scares.
Wailing; hold your heavy breath.
Pause. I'm angry, I want my trip.
Fight the virulence.
Frigid from the absence.
There will be no five, no six.
Like protesting magnets
denying our repellent
we push together enjoying things electric.
though choked with passion stagnant.



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