I REALLY DON’T FEEL LIKE DANCING TONIGHT

Enjoyed reading this at the group on Friday:

I REALLY DON’T FEEL LIKE DANCING TONIGHT

Listening in on the idle speeches

Over the noise from a river of heals

Orange girls prinked out in contraband bling

I try my best to normalize the fear

Bullshit passes my ear like a zephyr

The corpulent lips are well oiled tonight

No hints of meekness catch my attention

The catfights are fitful and break up the wait

Forged forward in a throng of exposed thongs

There’s no coats to hand in on this winter night

At the front of the queue I step out of line

I really don’t feel like dancing tonight

The lager is so flat the walls are jealous

The coke head doorman is over zealous

The music is repetitive- a strain

Someone’s just dropped a table for a ‘migraine’

D.J’s got a scratch he just can’t itch

The Z lists swim the alphabet like fish

The condom machine is way out of date

The price tag made me hyperventilate

I kissed a girl she tasted of marmite

She whispered in my ear as she lifted my wallet

I followed her into a cubicle

It was darker than an empty womb

She got me in a headlock I read her tattoos

That read ‘Made in Essex’ I quickly withdrew

I grabbed my clothes and got out of the limelight

I really don’t feel like dancing tonight.


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