I am an old soul head nodding, toing and froing amidst the rifts of the guitar, the rhythm reverbs and gyrates as I vibrate, ecstatic, energetic, epileptic and eclectic. An eccentric ecclesiastic, I serve the most high sounds, chords and strings. And when the base drops it resonates and penetrates from head to heel.
Then you appear as a great apparition, and I become thrilled, filled with fear and fascination as I feel the weight of your breath upon my skin. Our eyes clock and our thighs lock, and in that instance of time and space all I can do is skip to the beat of my heart and the vinyl.
Pressing play as we intertwine, wine and rewind. As I push, you pull, you give and I take, matching frequency and ferocity, a most dramatic crescendo.
Then, just like that the dawn fasts forward, presses pause and fades into the instrumental, and our chorus comes to an end.
And then the dance floor is hazy, my two-step is jaded, and I’m mixing gin and juice.
The Philosopher's Poet 