Slam.

Expose my figure in a kneeling pose my arm extended to your shoulder palm cradling the back of your neck. the other pressed hard against the floor for balance. eyes connected never losing attention while my back suppresses the blows of the repeating cycle. a blind rotation with no care for obstacles and restraint. I rise quickly. stiff with determination pull you up on to your feet. you pant, your complexion red from exhaustion you reach for your knee damaged from the fall. squinting hard, teeth clinched so much pain! I react without thought. lift you over the moving border and watch the tide guide you above the crowd to the front of the stage. at first sign of retrieval I raise my hand and smile a goodbye. arms soaked with blood and perspiration. a wall of bodies melt behind the lights frame with a hundred silhouettes in motion. tart adrenaline. my skin tastes like salt. tears of joy. arm and arm a connected mass with too much energy and the perfect outlet. glass children. sharp, transparent and fragile. jagged edges swing like a pendulum with a loud warning. impatient for action, eager for participation, starving for reality always fueled by emotion. so arrogant with our cynicism we annoy each other pointing out the others hypocrisy. scorn, curse, spit then shake our heads and laugh. proud of our sardonic sense of humor that keeps it all in perspective. the meaning of our protest, the conviction of our discontent. as long as ego and fashion stretch the ceiling to hide the sky and paint stars on an artificial night there will be contempt.