The Dancer

Drugs, Dancers, and Dawning Situations

Her reality is dictated by strobe lights splintering the sediment.

A circle full of dancers with luminous halos and voices like cushions; soft and delicate.

The euphoria on their lips are every minion's foolish destiny.

The movement of their hips is the root of all ecstacy.

Her heart races, her heart screams, her heart beat is a melody. 

She seeks the thrill of escape in purple pills and opens the gates to dreams of fantasy.

This scenery is bright.

The flowers bloom off her totem pole, the rain is always green, and she flutters through the valley's road. 

The animals stare and reach out for a hand to hold.

The fresh tea in the valley creates a wilder flutter and mixed with the purple pill; her dreams will cluster.

Her dreams will roar and rage and soar.

The animals will glare and grab and dare.

She'll keep fluttering through the valley on that totem pole.

She'll keep fluttering through the valley on that totem pole. 

Only purple pills and fresh tea can give this girl the world.

So, she'll keep fluttering through the valley on that totem pole. 

Reviews

[Poetic Beauty]

Harsh reality create a need for an escape. I feel sorry for the fluttering butterfly.