The sound inside my bubble is that of a cool jive,
One in which my pulse can beat to the sounds of easy street;
a smooth ride.
This impermeable cushion I wield is nothing more than a rhythmic shield;
The lyrical movement fuels my constant improvement.

From my hardened flesh to my vulnerable inner self.
I can feel the rock of my
beat roll across my body,
down to my hips, loosening my belt.
This remarkable bass line I wished you’d felt.

The symphony of my hips harmonized, synchronous to the tic toc of an
untimely biological clock. Four beats in a bar; full stop.

On solo performance days, my vibe can sometimes be an unusual pitter patter, crescendo, til glass shatter.

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