feel the vapour pressure drop
as the dark steam pours out the entrance.
real cold world is swirling into a club
that keeps the real life world out.
where every sense seems deathly weak
from the frozen time you spent in transit.
the glass dance world flickers on
and the low end thaws your anxious body

maybe i feel detatched, i may just look too shy,
it's a disinterest not that i'm a timid guy.
i call them bodies but, they are attentive too,
i feel the social glare i feel the attitude.

watch as mirrors clear themselves with the
breath of frigid air that eased in.
made up babies all rotate as a siren
spins a beam of amber. time sliced beat
by beat in a row, in a club.
in a line, in the city. the glass dance world
flickers on because the cycle happens enough:

a baby falls out warm, it's screaming for it's life,
an infant tries to dance as it grows up then dies.
that's simplified but uh. . .when your complexion dries,
you wake up cold and think, you wish it'd been this way.

See also:
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