Dance - to remember or to forget

Some dance to remember,

some dance to forget;

I dance to re-assemble—

so I resemble, reset.

Sampled breaths in loops, chopped and set to ride;

My pulse keeps time, ticking on the inside;

Blood learns the loop and rolls in with the tide;

Lyrics feed my brain—hot soul, to-go, with a side.

I two-step, clocking every bar—

bars like verses, bars like yards.

My record spins and clears its throat—

my record, as in vinyl; my record, as in my soul.

DJ Memory cuts deep—watch it scratch,

old wounds, new doubts, perfect match.

Press play, press charges, press repeat;

funny how a right hook knocks you off your feet.

A dance can pick the lock on the past,

backspin the block till the present’s recast.

Some tracks hit; some I left uncleared—

the past knocks hard with paperwork I feared.

I drum on my grief till it cracks a grin,

then pin down my doubts with a quick spin.

I ghostwrite yesterday’s pain to a bridge,

let the chorus hold me like a safety ridge.

“Refrain,” says the hook—double meaning, see?

I don’t sing it again… or I'll sing it till I’m free.

My sole heals what my soul can’t say—

Air Force prayers on parquet.

I’m label-less, but I tag my truth,

indie as a heartbeat, stubborn as a youth.

The beat drops weight I couldn’t lift,

I catch the fall in a pocketed drift.

I remember and forget in the same eight count,

bridge to verse, verse to dismount.

Past leaves voicemails I rarely save;

future texts back with a hand-clap wave.

I circle the block of my oldest thought,

spin it to daylight, call it a shot.

No frets here—wrong instrument, friend—

I worry less when the drums attend.

So I dance to resemble the self I meant,

re-assemble the pieces the years once spent.

I sample my courage, loop it clean,

let the floor be court where my heart convenes.

When the needle lifts and the crowd goes still,

I close my eyes, I hate the silence -- it kills

then the DJ nods, and I get my fill:

“Mic check—one life—run it back at will.”