Cut and shifted into what you think is thought of as music is really an intentional ploy for attention. Watching you. Him watching you. Grain is his digital. Your pores are his pleasure. He wraps his mouth around the eye piece of the camera. He watches you enjoy. Enjoy this night. He reveals her as him/herself. To nobody. To the interior of sweatpants. In a club. The club you’re in now. Invited to now. Be bare and driven by beat and dance. Ice tings flutter your throat from Bombay Sapphire when you yell at the DJ. And he can see you. Hand in the air. Hands in the air. Light in red on purple and blue; yellow becomes all one in green as grey and black. Sooooo exhausted. Your body dwindles. His stiffens. No gender. There’s so much footage. So much to edit and make. Whole entity. Sacrifice age and culture. Asexuality. Properly. Ego froze. Anticipation bare. Prepare for the worst in every situation, and yeah, your keys can’t help you turning down any alley. Especially this one. Digital smear. “Grounds For Arrest.” Laying down Punk Authority March 12.