That steep and quickening incline of breath. A spin and, then, a torpedo-like turn: to sort the boys from the men; that salsa dance, hand-TO-hand like no other, in fact – these fast-paced smiles neatly smothered atop of these perfectly attired people

Of sequenced and sandwiched, actually, bliss: and handsomely hellbent upon causing ALL angle of dancer’s attitude to sporadically combine…

“Why not?” Set absolute FiTs oF FlIcKeRiNg FIRE(!!) to this particular dance-floor, nose-to-nose: Here goes “nothing!”

These l-i-v-i-d, breathing, aptly SeEtHiNg Neanderthals are NOTHING if not u-t-t-e-r-l-y becoming professionally accustomed —

To this universal and wide-awake action called… inner-ward, unequivocal… tWisT: of both body-AND-mInD and ALL-things terrifically-both-BRILLiantly rhapsodic and on

Plagiarised purpose -we’ve EVEN watched them do their damndest thing and they DO seem to absolutely a-d-o-r-e: how the f-u-c-k it manages to make their memories feel, as it s-t-e-a-l-s their minds desirously
Away… …

‘Til brought justifiABLY back-to-life again – perfectionism still pending… sending them suitably insane