Violent Collisions (112 of 365)

Day 112 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day cabalistic meaning "a way of saying “secretive,” but with negative connotations."

Violent Collisions 

Red as night 

I was more oh so more

The food and dance and drink

I was more than words

I was more than I could taste or bare

I was more

The pounding of the night 

The synth rhythms 

The Jazz and the strings on guitars

Were scintillating 

Secrets danced in hidden alcoves

Scents of mine and others mingled

It was a chase

I was a predator

I was perfect in the night

With eyes distilling this essence

This freshness that cut through the cold

I was the warm throng in the mosh pit

I was the blooming curiosity of youth

I was the objectified 

The objective

Fervent beats and sweat 

Reduced to cabalistic innuendo

The tap of my heels

On dried carpets 

And beautiful star canopies

And tequila and glass tumblers

In our soft nubile hands 

The grace of my breast 

The kiss of the wind 

And the embrace of lust and longing and wrongness

Violent collisions 

And gasping whore notes

Punctuate my mind

The blood shooting through me 

Like a monkey in heat

The fire of my energised soul 

Is a super weapon ripping apart all the night 

I bask and stare out over the city 

I know it is all mine 

And I am more and 

I want more and I am satiated 

And I am ravenous and lustful and forever doomed to be forever wandering consumed in this fleshy 

Prison as Queen of the colour drained night.