dance, motherfucker, dance

pack up that gentle face / impound your every sensibility / what a slippery bitch you are / there is you / just you / you in this scratch black ugly room / festering in every rotten bone of you / is something that you thought buried / but like some rotted flesh / beneath your floorboards / you are seething / maggots / putrid / lousy with disgust / broken in contempt / fuck this pretence eloquence / and overstatement / you hate this / you hate you / you hate hate / you are drinking the devil down / you don’t eat / you don’t know what’s going on / you never wanted to know / you are ignorant and perishing / with ever sweet annihilating breath / you are sucking this the fuck up / you are not sure that this corruption isn’t just / exactly what you knew it was going to be / languish on the bed you made / fuck in the bed you made and unmade / fold pages / desert anger / worsening like some wound untended / don’t just stand there

dance

sterilise your heart in bass and beats / decimate all the lovely constructions / the futile figures over there / point your finger / drink the devil down /

dance

smash and spill your limbs like kings relish in the roiling mass the trash of you the beat the sweet the undercurrent pull to which we all succumb

dance

deafen out your every inner voice

and dance

 

 

Published
Categorized as musing

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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