"...on the dance floor."

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"...on the dance floor."

By Ross E F Lombardi

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I need to dance sometimes.

But the reasons why are never seen.

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I do not dance to find a date.

If I like some woman,

Then it will be because of a cool connecting conversation,

Not just because we met on some dance floor.

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I do not dance because I think that I am good at dancing.

What anyone else thinks of my dancing is not my problem.

...Or at least...

...It should not be...

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I dance to fight...

But not in the way you might think...

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I am always fighting on the dance floor.

No one else is harmed,

No bouncers involved

No cops called

Alone or in a crowd,

I am still dancing alone.

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But not dancing.

Fighting.

Fighting on the dance floor against a thug.

A thug no one else can perceive.

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I am fighting on the dance floor.

Not just fighting.

I am fighting For My Life on the dance floor.

Against the ass hole that is trying to kill me.

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Dancing is my weapon.

If I lose - I get murdered.

If I lose I die.

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Dodging the sadness.

Blocking the striking memories.

Hitting back the beats with a dip of my hips.

Avoiding the attempted iron grip grappling of despair.

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This is not merely dancing.

This is not just "fun"

This fighting.

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Fighting to the death on the dance floor.

Fighting my depression.

Fighting the call to self-destruction.

Fighting until the bitter end.

Not giving in...

Never quitting...

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'Me' Vs an 'Inner Me'.

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