| Description: |
All I remember is the dancing...
A rythmic swaying of hips and the hot friction of skin upon skin. The lights and your hands trailing down my stomach, down. The scent of flowers braided in my long amber hair. The lights, the sound. The atmosphere of love that encased us all in our euphoria, little death-caskets fashioned out of three letters. LSD. The girl in the bathroom, clawing frantically at her face, her eyes. The spiders...where? A pint of jack between my legs, savoring slow sips in a bathroom stall with a red-haired savage. She pulled my flowers out, but I made her braid them back in. Nobody ruins a flower-child in this utopia. Music pulsating, like the range between my thighs when we're dancing. Calling you home. Throwing up peace signs and hugging a sweaty mass of dreadlocks; another square pressed into my palm. We are in the land of givers. I pass the pint to it, and watch it dissapear into those dreads. Wandering; I need you. You're still dancing where I left you. An unknown force draws us together. That fimiliar smile creeps across your face, slowly, like the shoreline of the coast. I want to swallow you completely, now. The square is on my tounge, and you nodd in agreement, whispering, "you are my aphrodite, you are the goddess." I know this is true, because you told me so. I am the goddess. As the colors fade to sounds, and the sounds melt into the colors, resurfacing like the swells of an angry sea, you are nothing, nothing but a ghost. We dissapate into the night, sent out with the clicky-clack of the El as a backbeat. |
