Work has come crashing.
Sample-snip drum ‘n bass clipping text. Burr hum, sitting in nothing but a few pieces. Sleep, dreaming, thickets. Child, no, don’t ask me these questions. Thickness like a swollen tongue. Wisdom laughing, impure thought. Dance now, feet catching the fall. No grace here. Grace is for those who care about how they move. It’s time to get a little groove on. Mark the names down at the door in the dark ink. Flicker flash on, strobe black bright. Let everything loose, they’re just dirty little snapshots. Let your body find the skin.
Overhead off. There’s no saving face. There’s only you and the floor and the lights. It might help if you close your eyes. Hips rolling into rhythm, ess curve electric shocks. Play the music, recordman, keep us heavy. Feels like water, the hardest spots. Strike you down with this. Too pale and purple. Feeling it all from this bedroom throne, I’m spoiled. Complicated cheap shots. White cloud trail behind the littlest plane. The day it comes, I’ll be watching.
Apocalypse.