Lines, ice clear
Like the cold beating down on your heart last night.
Goosebumps push their chairs back and attempt to rise
But are firmly patted down.

Where careless is Freudian, and
Hidden is not forgotten, and
Performance is prophetic

I slide back down onto black vinyl
And watch the show,
Legs crossed, arms welcoming
Your sudden proximity
Smelling like a thousand green bottles of ecstasy

Shattered spiderwebs
Flowing unconscious into intoxication
Numbing, stirring and throbbing
Mixing life with dreams
Flying in the air
And landing on the cold hard floor with a thump.