nightstand

eyeteeth before eyes
grabbing the stranger’s wrist
chin tilted towards the neon
she floods her face

familiar with his jawline
glass spreading skin
in the bottle, underwater
the world spins

two, two, three, four
the dance floor is sewage
breathing, old saliva welling
ankles twist

memory is a tricky thing
he’s like all the rest
just sweat and want and fingernails
good night, let’s bite

© 2017 Stellular Scribe

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