The True Dance



Dancing around the rim of chalk, on either side the forest grows ever on. Further ahead along the path you walk, her scent is spreading rapidly. Visions of her sex never ending. Passing always, the flowers sigh as you move by. The trees speak of love, and they sing a song just like the birds. And just like the birds, they watch in anticipation. The sky above, it mirrors all those yesterdays that reflect in your eyes. The dead eyes of nowhere. Somewhere in the breeze, the ghost of Jackson Pollock is drinking. His car crash unravelling in slow motion. Impact zones and crumpled steel, the taste of hot oil spilling onto asphalt. His body coming back to life and dripping blood no more, his hands splash paint on stretched canvas. Triumphantly, regrettably. Energy made visible. The secret of self. Monsters, and natural evil. The quarry is constant, as are the donkeys as they boil in the town below. Donkeys always drowning, always painted so cheaply. Through the branches at the foot of a hill, you lose yourself in the shade of singing trees. Her presence here is myriad. It’s a holy land. It’s a dream within a dream. Crows circling above your head, the fields of corn are calling to you. You can see her walking through them, a smile playing across her lips. Kneeling down, you steady yourself as she rises. Pushing your fingers into sand and stone, you feel the history of the place pumping through your veins, and as she looks down on you, the sense of emptiness that drained you for so long is gone. The memories and traces of where she’s been, flowing through your heavy heart. Shaking, salivating. The perfect drug. Hands upon thighs. Teeth sinking in, always feeding. Dazzling and breathless. To consume. To consummate. The true dance. Electricity shooting through your spine. Rivers boiling, evaporating all about her. Form is rendered meaningless. Sensation, pleasure. At the speed of light, pulsating. The universe, bursting like the rush of lust as two mouths meet for the first time. Hands clenched as the colours around you blur; your body comes apart at last. You’re ethereal now, just like her. Beyond the soft machines, beyond the cage of flesh, everything shines. Weightless and moving invisibly. Through the boundaries of what is known, the two of you move into the future. A maelstrom of shooting stars. With her the brightest by far.

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