"Can I have this dance?"
"You don't look Abel,
even if you Cain."
They said while
Feet throb
with excitement;
hands raise
in spite of the pain.

Eyes hurt
looking at the blinding
lights in your eyes.
And fear and joy
Within nerves itching
to share and pair
synchronize muscles
for an ancient

Music stops
thoughts interfere
with fluids moving
without knowing
but some journey
Ended for more.

Stepped on feet,
bruised egos;
"The rhythm's too fast:
shirt hangs out,
Probably poor: a
Sloppy wallflower",
unrequited pity on a
cowlick twitch.

Life is
a Sufi
dizzying top along with
Nature won't play.
Art is somebody's trash,
lost in a stash
when it follows its
own nightmare.

Sweat is purifying
endorsing endocrine:
belying secrets
nobody wants or cares.
They said "no",
emphasizing the o.

Mouth pursed,
bile for money
poured out of pockets of disgust
like the leaking
rusty bucket
grandpa's fish died in.

The floor buckled
sympathizing with knees
and echoing knobs
of attic doors
forbidden to

Making unwary pilgrims
travel a road they hated to pay:
for tolls,
and toil;
and barricades set up
cleverly to wind
threads of angst
in unwanted places.
From now until whenever
destination of twine.
Conflicting patients
impatient for cure.

"So be it, so be it", the crowd moaned.
"Your idols became too expensive
for nourishment
and they abhor your care.
Footsie with enemies:
a waltz to Hell.

Ladders to Paradise
made out of pride
go downwards
32 feet per second per second:
Clapping as you slide".

Boomerang Bingo every morning
you wake.
Taking nothing with you
But worry or prayer.
There's a need for blackout curtains,
on windows to the world.
Newspapers now stop up
the ears.

"Leave them, me, us, ourselves,
nobody, anybody
"Get out of here,
you hebephrenic
know it all, no-ing

the Mad Weeks of May, come what may! (obviously let the seller beware)

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