The pulse of the bass corresponds
With the pulsating of blood -
Throbbing against tender ear drums.

Skin glistens beneath neon lighting -
Pale fingers grasp the smoky air;
Limbs flailing about like drowning bodies.

Between the tracks, we slow and pause:
Faltering; uncertain; unaware -
Our arms fall flaccid to sides.

Riffs fill the static, humid gaps between us
Pulling muscles taught in their femurs,
Raising their hands to the air again.

Jubilant expressions, shouting
The pungent smell of stale perspiration
As endorphins replace the redundant mood.

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