twisted story with poems within

His eyes scan upwards from her large smile, to his reflection in the mirror behind her head. His movements, like his hair, flowing freely. He appears so sharp in that glass; an image etching into his memory. A vision of himself shining in her spotlights. He leans in to whisper
"I love the expressions on your face"
"And your skin feels so good"
"I need a small taste your lips" he confesses.

His legs and pelvis move to the beat of the music, as his arms slowly snake about his body and head. He moves like he truly feels the music.


Flowing as a melting stream in spring
turning, sliding,
gently pushing against her hot banks

His unbuttoned shirt sliding off
Midst the swaying of his hips
Revealing the body she sees in her dreams

The lady's eyes now stroke his flesh
Shortly followed by her leg which slides up between his
To tease and explore his riches

He turns his back and lightly slides his butt across her lap. Grabbing her hands and wrapping them around the front of his torso.

He begins to rise and move away but she tightens her grip and holds him a few seconds more.

She pours her honey into his ears:
I want your eyes
You're good at this
I like your chest
There is no fat on you
You have a nice touch
I had a fantasy about you
OMG so big and hard, it's beautiful
You should be in porno
I didn't expect you to be so nice
You know you're special, I'll never forget you...etc.

All words he stores in memory. An invisible trophy case.

So many times he's heard... but that's what he lives for; perhaps dies for.

So far from the words he's heard in the past. The fracturing words that still stampede through his head, so difficult to bridle. Words clinging like frosty crystals of morning dew that freeze the growing grass.

This was a special dance for one of the cocktail waitresses who works there. He often invites her to stay as a guest after her shift is done. He loves dancing for her as well as getting a chance to sit together for awhile. Some think they are a couple, and he usually replies jokingly "in her dreams".

Rising to leave, he holds his hand up to hers like a prisoner and a visitor put theirs together against a window.

He places her hands to his face with this gentle command
"touch me"

Touch me like I'm beautiful
With face aglow as moon that's full

Where cold night air has cast its chill
Your lustful gaze provides the thrill

Let legs entwine and profiles trace
Or hold my hand within your grace

Breathe my scent before a taste
My form alive in your embrace

Your fingers strolling through my park
So much you hold within this dark...

This darkness where I feel my dreams
Upon my tongue, no silent screams

Just flesh of you in want of me
A brush of skin could set me free

In darkened sky, ignite a star
Beyond the dusk of deepened scar

My resurrection in your pull
Touch me like I'm beautiful

Unlike the other dancers he's not oiled up, tacky or fake. He's down to earth and open. He's realistic as an old friend, or new love; a fantasy from a romance novel. Come co-star in a scene tonight.

Moving back to the stage he sometimes hears their thoughts:

He looks like a rock star
Does he ride a bike?
Is that bad boy into martial arts?
Could he be dangerous?

And he wears their imagination like a royal cape
Fairy tales of prince and princess
As a scene from the love boat come to life
Words and touches like a movie screen
Blossom in a tactile dimension
As they each see, feel, and hear their rainbows
A twist of dreams entwines in darkness
Where the cape of royalty covers his silhouette
Covers the invisible pauper boy
Who came out from the curtains
"why don't you cut your hair?" some would say. "You have a nice face"

Behind a safe curtain of blonde
Two eyes peering through from beyond

A scared child is hiding from views
Armed with two hollow point blues

Carefree hang soft curls and waves
Belies the pained ugly it saves

Where the unwanted still hide from sight
On flash wings he takes empty flight

If touched could he ever respond?
Beyond reach in curtains of blonde

It's the holiday season and the bar is crowded. The dance goes better than planned, as he thrives
before her smile, her touch, and her warm words.

But no curve of muscle nor flow of hair
no word from his lips nor glisten of eye
can stop the earth from turning
the ending of a song
the sharp rising of sun
the inevitable truth

As they sit together for awhile at the bar, she hands him a small present. A little book for storing phone numbers. His mouth hanging slightly open and his eyes soft and large like a cow. He looks like a girl being offered a ring.
"What's wrong?" she asks.
"Nothing" he says as he snaps back into composure. He didn't want to appear as if it were the only gift he'd get this year. Sure, he has numbers on scraps of paper and cocktail napkins to store, yet somehow no one to call on a holiday meant for family and friends.

Separations and congregations complete, she walks back into a world he'll not know.
"Enjoy your holidays. Have a good time tonight." she says with a hug and kiss. She must assume there are others out there some where who care about him more than she.

When the lights come up and tips are counted, values turn cold as the shiny metal door handles he feels on his way out.

And the holidays cut with a harsh blade of truth. Rain drips gently from his hair and down his face. Knowing that daybreak brings a viscous stabbing light, he takes comfort in the midnight storm. His leather sleeves creaking as he lifts the hood from his sweatshirt.

The neon lights outside the bar buzzing cold. He sees so many beautiful Christmas lights as he walks. And he stops momentarily to reach out and touch one, just to adore the soft heat of the bulb.

Shivering in the cold
Holding memories to his heart

Bodies once so close
So soon they do depart

What has in in his hands
Nothing that he can hold

Just flesh that occupied
A space now chilled and cold

And frost consumes finger tips
Where no one is to stay

Where touch would flow with compliments
And dreams would dance and play

Where one so ugly became sweet
One night soft lips could bloom

In daylight that reveals
A worthlessness resumed

So hold it tight tonight
In arms that seem to care

Then let the fall resume
And know you can't repair

He always needs a few drinks to perform. And now he's in need of a bathroom and returns to the club. Seeing himself in the bathroom mirror brings a moment of... reflection.

And he thinks of his image swaying in the mirror earlier that night. His world is as cold and flat as the mirrors glass; a dimension he's stuck in. His blood is warm and his pulse alive, yet he can only touch as the man in that cold reflection he saw. The unwanted boy who learned to hide so well, had crystallized long ago, turning his full life into disconnected facets. He stood contemplating long how to reach through the mirror and stop the inevitable sunrise. Shattered reflections sparkle across the floor like tiny fallen stars.

Christmas morning paper; page 7:

Dancer Found In Restroom

Oh, to feel good just once more
No comfort in this dirty stall
Between me and loves warm hand
Metal gray graffiti wall

See me drink with beautiful
Conceited you would say
Hugs are better you tell me
But never seems to come that day

Remember me and times we had
And touch your hand on mirrors glass
From other side I've met you too
I feel your world yet cannot pass

A few drinks serve to prime my will
The horseman riding to fulfill
Now I'm feeding strong the flame
Where only ashes will remain

As my fingers touch the train
Determined not to lose my aim
A flash of people left behind
I lay the tracks down one last time

Please don't open up my eyes
Please don't make me see
The things that I have done
Are thundering through me

The path I spoke of once before
Now it holds my steps
As I can't seem to pull your eyes
Yet call you my witness

If a tree falls to the earth
And no one is around
When you knew me with your smile
Did you hear a sound?

As I feel the needle sting
Seems I just can't help but think
How only two cents put towards me
Could change everything


The pleasures I've reached
Only skin deep
The needle breaks through
Step forward; begin

My savior the needle
Seeking a vein
The last hurt I cause you
Finale of pain

As my scene is unveiled
I'm discovered quite pale
My last dream and hope
Above scene I float

A tear from you
I'm hoping to see
Not for yourself
But just for me

To briefly linger
My poor ghost
A final search
For dreams held close

And rest my soul
Forever long
To know you cared
To know... I was wrong