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
I will know
Arna Baartz
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