Platonic Reproduction
There was cigarette smoke in my eyes as I slid out of myself, a bassline from within my walls, felt as a texture to those who rushed to touch my sweat slick skin (and many did).
My body is a nightclub (without a bouncer).
The scene opens, lights up on a microscope slide. At center stage, you watch my cells reproducing so fast it makes you nauseous.
Faster than yours, motherfucker. Dull white noise, like inside a church.
We are all dancing wildly.