Caller’s Remix of WORLDS Sees the Danger in the Sweetest Things, Dances Anyways
WALK TO THE LIQUOR STORE, SOMETHING TO DO
RIDING HIGH, WE’RE NEVER COMING DOWN
I’ve taken to slow-dancing in an ice block, looking out at the world like ‘what?’. I’d say I keep the world at arms-length, but there’s about 30 metres of cold between my outstretched fingertips and the space where you and everyone else stares at me doing no justice to the dougie all alone in here. I do me boo boo and I never said I could dance. I dance so you don’t think I’m dead when you dare to look my way. Spontaneously, seven seconds of dance on a sidewalk. Exiting and Entering every building. Every time I see someone choose kindness and not to kill another’s human vibe. Some dude I’ll never know, you saw some lady screaming and you didn’t tell her to shut up. Swung your arms around in the shape of a hug and let slip syllables of safety. Just like that, shimmy bish. I assume that’s what he said. I don’t know. I donned this iceblock all around me so I didn’t have to hear you laugh when I danced, inevitably slammed my head into a wall. And so, you don’t know this about me–even though I say it all the time–but I’m a world class optimist. You have to be to survive what I survived and never stop samabaing. Like I believe everyone always has access to that good shit. And they’d slam some in my heartif I could be someone that people like.
FANTASIZE, CATCH THESE FEELINGS AS THEY FALL
I WANT IT ALL
You, I know I’ll never be. So I drank whiskey to use my liver like a whipping boy. When I wouldn’t process poison no more, I wished the whiskey would whisk the pain away. It never did. So, I dulled the diastolic dancebeat in my arteries with what the doctor ordered until Diazepam became my blood. I danced even though I discovered every day that I did so on legs I’d clean broke some 700km back. I never goddamn give up. It’s a piece of me, both endearing and exhausting. Would spit on my shins and slap some splints on so I never had to stop stomping to remixes like this by Caller. Caller’s music dares to see the danger in even the damn sweetest things–like a kiss from your [Grindr] darling. But it won’t let you dither in it, dares you to disco out of your darkness. So, I do. I belly-dance in another’s heartbeat range. I say ‘I’m here, I’m queer, here’s where I’ve been. How are you?’ I lay out all my hopes like a choroepgraphed lyrical dance I spent the last 97 days rehearsing. And they see my humanity as some kind of hustle. Oh, well.