wasted concept

I dove into them. A circus of howling voices, splattered into existence by the assistance of the ol piss water and the set sun. It was the sip of the fizz that bathed my gums, tounge glurping, my lips startled and yet so requesting for just one more. Gulp, sip, long draw, ttttt-aste. The curvature of the glass bottle, fit just so, sweating, cold against my pressed palm. The draw, the suction, the swallow down to liver. Delivering inTo brain loose, sway- arcing tides that break in the form of instrumental beats.

To giggle, to mingle, to wink then run. To shake and glide upon linoleum roads, laid down between bar stools and close eared-close breasted conversations.  Lips dripping coos, body bouncing- flailing to internal rhythms. Action-oriented, night delight, time a wasted concept, chasing moment. Inbetween alleys up streets and onto doorsteps, a parade of laughter. We find ourselves saying it all but saying nothing it all, and in turn forget it all.

ring out freedom.

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