Confusion and Noise at the Center of It All

Din at parties, enough bass & eyes weaving through shuffling bodies, trying not to spill drinks, always has a way of arriving right where I sit, or stand, but doubtfully dance In this cacophony of beats & this drowning sensation of purplish light, like the light translated, at dusk, from the falling sun through the refracting surface that plays mayhem by its optical illusions upon my suffocating brain, it becomes stark inevitable that mix ups will mix and go up, or down—I'm losing my sense of direction and I haven't even had a drink...as straight as I can, one finger in front of the other I step, step, left margin to the right, step, step...would you look at that, I think I'm dancing!