a soft gust of wind tickles my golln arm hairs, the water falllingforever in tune. pounding its catchy patttern in and onto my ear drums. rhythm.bright lights set with a fog dim. my shades keep me balanced. in even a world that the lesser turn cheek, the half empty bodies scatter apond the sealed circle of souls. spilled alcohol washed away by glass and uiren. loud scraping and bangs from the skaters accomplishing 

the impossible, well  rounded. repetitive. red eye  due to the drugs

...mostly maryjane on this side. the circle.