Brixton Millennium

Steel brushes, lick those drums
While sub-beats descend,
Plum-ripe, velvet skinned
They shudder through me.
Peristalsis from lips, via gut, to hips
And by God, I swear that when
I exhaled that time
Blue fire-flies swirled
From my mouth to your hair,
And as music wraps around me
And the moment’s abstracted
By beats and by skin
And the bass gets inky
I find elation has occluded
Myself, my sin,
I groan
And my bowels give in.

We’d trained for this with small nights out.
Laughable quantities of mushroom brew
And hash in those innocent pre-skunk days
And now and again for a quick buzz
In the student uni
We’d drop some poppers
And nod benignly at the squares

This E that we had
Didn’t include much E
Feels like waves of LSD
But I dance anyway
With willow-the-the-wisps
With snakes
The bioluminescence
Of three thousand dancers
Out if their faces
Moving together
Bound by the tracers
Of lasers and strobes
And bowel-shaking beats
Joy and terror
Strangely entwined
Attraction, repulsion, in time
Not with the music
But the stranger pace
Of drugs in a system

We’re a few hours in
Not even half way
And already I’m yearning
For a nice cup of tea
And a sit on hill
With wind in the trees.
My stomach is knotted
But the toilets are dire
Filth on the floors
And on the walls
And despite that carnage
There’s fucking within
And later we’re dancing
And I think about that
But there are geometries
Fanning toward me
And I’m ensnared in a grid
Of some cold hard beats
And we’re lost
Lost for some time
But this comes in waves
And later I’m nursing a beer
At the bar and sharing
A spliff with some guy
And at some point it ends.

There’s a cold Brixton dawn
With streets drained of colour
An intimation of the new millennium.
My two friends were beautiful
And in their eyes
Were the faintest of embers
Departing fireflies

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