Monday night meat-market

This is life.

This is living.

Moist your lips,

warm-up your tongue,

let the music

all the way in.

All The Small Things.

Almost essential.

Human contact,

your arm brushes hers

(brushes theirs?)

Do you feel that?

Feel that warmth,

that closeness,

to another person,

just for a minute.

Do you see her?

The way she dances?

Look at those tits.

Go on over

kiss her now

fuck her later

What's her name?

Doesn't matter.

Closing time.

The dancefloor empties

can you see her?

She wandered off before.

Well, what's she look like?

Can't remember.

This is your life.

That you're living.