Swing

Dancing.
Hemorrhaging, yes.
But dancing

I love it but
only around this fire and 
that living room.
Not those looks you give with 
no business tripping 
me.
Gridlocking 
me.
Take it off.
Shed the wall.
Fuck the paper.
Listen for the emergency between 
my ribs.
Your repertoire needs it.
What would opportunity say?