Basement

This dark room, where we lie awake
And let the music lull and throw
A shadow of our dreams upon
The distant walls, where we can turn
Our aching necks to drink our fill
Of faces that we love, lit up
By this bass line beating a strobe
Beyond their lips and twitching lids.
A gallery of pale statues,
All still, immortal, in the smoke
That hides their feet and climbs the stairs.
Their eyes are warm, alive inside
Unconscious heads that tire and loll
On friendly shoulders in the dawn.