rut.

[Raz]

Sex in a bottle leaves me warm and pliant. The air's sweating and I'm tasting every drop. I'm breathing for you and for every other fucker on this dancefloor.
Leather. Metal. Skin. Ink. Every time we touch I'm high and very time I look into your eyes I'm your bitch except for when you're mine.
Chemicals kill my brain in a good way. The bass and strobe take turns smashing whatever's left. There's nothing left but wanting to fuck until I can't move anymore.
There's nothing left.

 

[WordyOne]

Chemicals kill my brain in a good way. The bass and strobe take turns smashing whatever's left.
Damn it, Raz, I can very much relate to your vignette, if I can call it that. What is it about drugs and a dancefloor, what is activated, that makes us want to take those steps up to the apex of the physical?
I haven't tried GHB, but I guess that's what you refer to as 'sex in a bottle'. Talk about topical!
This is one of the best things I have read on here for quite some time - cos it's blunt, but also considered; it's about a fairly 'universal' situation, but it's devoid of cliche. Every word in it has a purpose.
You're from Melbourne, I see. I'm wondering which dancefloor, if any, you were imagining whilst writing this? And don't tell me you were writing it down while you danced?!

 

[Raz]

Thanks Wordy!
The sex in a bottle is amyl actually...I've had G once and I didn't hate it, but it made me feel silly more than anything else...like I was filled with helium and my feet were all that were keeping me to the floor. Amyl turns me on like crazy.
And the dancefloor was no dancefloor in particular, just a couple of bars where it's not so much about dancing as it's about sex. Sometimes I want to hit a dancefloor and go off like a speed machine getting into the music but sometimes it's just about sex...I'm kinda base like that.
Thanks again tho, glad you liked it!