They dance around in their cages, and sidle up to the bars.
Their currency, a turn at the reins, for a sweet, brief caress of the ego.
Welcome in. Drink deep, and take a look around.
There’s a man I don’t like to know I know.
He’ll kick your cat across the room
just to see the wondrous texture of flying fur
and when you ask why Fluffy’s coughing,
he’ll compliment your drapes.
He’s not the only kind of dancer.
But I can’t deny he’s in here.
Somewhere.
He lives to play the games you don’t like to think you love
And he doesn’t just play them because they work.
He’ll dump a fuck in you as easy as draining a soft heart of a
swollen hope;
trade your money for a lie just to see you wake up broke.
wrap your heart around his fingers,
and snap them just for fun.
Money, souls, and promises, just another set of songs,
to dance around.
Only one of many inside here,
yelling “let me out! I’d know just what to do.”
Or just smiling smugly, jaunty hand dangling a cigarette
between the go-go bars.
Just one of many alternating egos, only one shows at a time;
one, at any moment, every day for the rest of our time,
in this finite flesh.