Dancing By Myself As They Slumber Towards Breakfast
I’m going to fall.
I’m going to fall. I’m going to fall to earth, like a star. I’m going to fall like the brightest morning star. I’m going to fall, and fall hard.
I’m going to follow you around.
And you’re going to follow me. You’re going to see where I go, and you’re going to come along with me. You’re going to trail after me like a kite tail. You’re going to get swept up in my motion. You’re going to dance along with my rhythm. You’re going to fall to the order of my beat.
And I’m going to see you do it. I’m going to see you put your head down. I’m going to see you focus through it. I’m going to move through this, and to the other side.
He’s got her between his teeth, and he growls. I let it happen because I’m addicted to motion, because I’m drawn in to letting things happen, intensity growing like a well-stoked fire.
Of course I’m scared of being burned; why would you play with fire if you weren’t? If you weren’t drawn to the point of impact, if you weren’t pulled to destruction like a moth climbing skywards towards the sun?
I could be threatened by so many things. Worlds larger and smaller than myself.
But none of those things are me. They cannot be.
The Donnas are dancing with themselves. The morning is cold and full of a godless sort of Sunday sunshine.
Starshine cuts into our eyes like a razor. Slicing up eyeballs, oh-ho-ho-ho.
I can see him, I can see her, I can see everything twisting together, and I’m outside of it and within it and; I’ve been all over this town; I’ve seen girls from around the world; so I’ll just think another drink, because it’ll give me pause to reconsider myself.
- savageleewriting posted this