Figures

A snort and puff;
liquor pours out
through pores, flushed and fierce,
and steam fills the void
while clanks ring.

A room of trials and tracks,
of rattling vibrations,
of echoes and shrieks, ecstasy
tests fate and temps fake
figures.

Disfigure in darkness
shifting with grunts and moans.
Broken glass and swaying, numbing.
No fierce burning
deep in flesh flakes and drops.

Over-encumbered act
and now lazy mirrors
hide and reflect their business
with skin revealed, being sold
on a black market day.

But trials and tracks,
inconsistently stepping on bile and shards,
know no economics,
only to spin and spit
attracting lazy eyes.

Never was the fun fluent
and always on its knees,
slurping and choking
for simple entertainment
to the simple-minded.

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