boys and their art ii (or attempts at distracting anxiety)

friday evening techno beaten drunken words underground glasgow (refined)
i don't fall in love with people, i fall in love with their art
i am once again inspired beyond belief:
your way of counting the beats with your body
and the rhythm of your bass running through my body
is the sort of thing that turns me on.
whereas just your body wouldn't really much at all
i'm okay with that.
your art was always more appealing and that's what made me interested in the first place
weirdly it's also the stillness of your body against mine
and now i want to watch you dance in these lights you built
inspiration gets me going but it's also the stillness that follows
we don't know what happens next but the presence of the crowd is deafening and whatever follows even more so
how easy it is to remember the roots of an emotion one had thought long lost

(attempts at not thinking about how difficult it is to breathe)
(or to stand still)
(how difficult it is not ripping off one's fingernails scratching off one's skin)
(and how crying is so easy and so hard and it's the smallest things but unbearable)
(like tilting back a chair missing a step in stairs except it won't pass)
(now this is done now i need new things to distract it but i can't really think)
(there's a papercut on my knuckle i'm already biting it open)
(i can't eat)