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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1123837
It's a poem about a night at the club. It's not finished.
Saturday Night
Whirling lights
dance along the sturdy frame of
Sonique
Begging, laughing
asking me to join in
to dance with the sweat-covered goddess in gold
and abandon my responsibilities
to him
to others
to myself?
to indulge in a dream
if only for a little while
I answer the siren's song
and dance next to SHE
the one whom if I dared to speak,
would pull me into her reality
whirling,singing madness
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