ripples

the disc that spins

inside my chest

methodically collects

sensations

it colours my world magenta and black

if I let it

but

these colours

are yours my love

and I spin them back to you

a gift of freedom….

 

channelling you

through my sensational machine

makes no ripple in your world of mixed message

but I hear you

you beg for ripples

you scream for change

I can feel it

throwing orange like a manic painter

splattering my floor, making me

slip, slippery

on lust and pain

 

the moon is high

wash your disc in a clear stream

I will feel it and I will know

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