everlasting rounds,
mountains that create
breathable noise.
we listen when we’re
drunk, when our
minds are no longer
ours to control.
repeated scratching
makes me dance,
divine unconsciousness,
we pull out another record
when all that’s left
of the last is
grain.
I groan when the
noise stops,
never stop,
never stop.
I sink into corduroy
cushion.
sit by me
so I know the
world isn’t truly
spinning.