the full eclipse

the fatigue mind is ripped apart
by the hand grenade
by the unstoppable dance
of the psychotic belly-dancer

watching the volcanic eruption
through the glasses
made out the pink cellophane
while the solar eclipse
is just a matter of time

you’re wiping your greased palms
on the Hawaiian shirt
ecstatically clapping
with the idiotic smile

the wavering flame
enveloping the dancer’s curves
the dancer is blending with the light

soon you’ll see only her silhouette

the full eclipse

and the darkness will consume


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