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It’s roughly midnight on a Saturday night. Half of us are in our underwear. Sweaty. Disheveled. Clothes are scattered across the floor like an orgy-tornado passed through.My body hasn’t gotten the message that it’s over yet.I’m on fire. Buzzing. Tingling.I can still hear the applause, the laughter, the callbacks.How alive can one person feel?And when…
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A big, toothy showgirl smile while my jaw clenches,and my throat burns like fire and ice.What you see and what I feel.What I am, and what you want me to be.
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