I’m almost too drunk to know what’s really going on... almost. His hand’s around my waist and he’s laughing in my ear, but all I can hear is my balanced heartbeat. A liquefied rhythm that’s been with me throughout the ages...

There’s nothing quiet... nothing clandestine between us. It’s closer and closer to the groups, neither of us capable of melting into the shallow. And I realize I’m over my head, my cocky smile barely the safer save, his hands possessively drawing me away; dragging me towards the obvious void; the blue-black tranquility in “back.” He sings:

“Got a head full of one way rides...
that you won’t believe.
A giant leap from your heart to my arms
Before it’s time to leave”

The cold air makes its ways across my skin, slightly in advance of his play, blazing a scorching trail through my bloodstream with the alcohol adrenaline as he sings:

“Got a ticket on a Sunday drive
In the afternoon
There's nothing quite like your Indian smile
To relay my blues”

His kiss is slow, and I swear to fucking god I can feel his pulse against my lips. I open my mouth, twist my tongue around his, and it’s hot and fast and makes me think of anise and guarantees.

The world spins quick when I close my eyes....

Best to never shut them.

Oh inertia, carry me along.