of bars and men

1, 2, 3... red light!
and sweet, black, blaring techno surged the unholy hours...
the mist that sways with every gyrating soul,
finds itself unworthy in this testosterone-charged arena.
the vitruvians on their pillars, glistening-
every pulsar streak, spectrum diffusing beat of the night.
eyes that close bear witness to a wave undeniable...
immersion into the rainbow conservatory that you call home.
gentlemen of ten percent...
turn it up 'til morning gods descend!