CoffeeNoBody

indulge drink dance smoke and cafe walk afterwards

among these smells,
where dances are but shadows of emotions
where every beat and bent is a hidden lustful gaze
nothing godly and moral remains:
everyone is on the lookout
i forget that you are you, and that
everyone else around has a name
they are all but skin
under the wave cover of pulsating lights
and rippling throbs of addictive booms,
screams and steps --- its all drowning,
this friday night ritual that is us.

but we carry them through knowing
how artificial smiles they are, how very
practical names and lifestories we have become,
how disposable partners we have all been,
how is it that our coffee is never the same?
never the kick that was after the blast

no body passionate enough to hug the tongue
nor any aroma to touch the palate.