I hit a snare once
Then dissolved within it’s rhythm.
It became a light, to dance.
I couldn’t care much for the glass,
Was too tired of the second-hand smoke
And the dancefloor, funk never dies.
Soon as i embed in your sight
I beheld a fine detailed nature
Twirling in motion, soft yet rife.
I choked on my cigarette.
Because of your enticing sight,
I had hiccups all night.

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