Drag, Sex and Aresholes.

Cretans of the night we spill down the lighted street flamboyant dresses swirling red lipstick smeared across our gaping maws.
Vomiting the poison from our swollen bellies while spinning in circles reveling in our own inebriated stupidity.
Snorting pigs turn up to fine us $75 for our obvious freedom and the threat we pose as alluring males in dresses.
They pose questions with obvious answers; "are you wearing a dress?".

Our screeching swarm of eccentric colour and mirth stumbles back toward our base of merriment.
Accosted along the way by beings so insecure they project there fear of what they truly are on those who are without fear.
Violence ensues but when the physical attack is nullified by a lack of fear and a persistent man who tries to enlighten them over and over they go home questioning everything they have convinced themselves.
As we walk away we are crying for the world which is truly being corroded by the creatures inhabiting it.
It seems almost unbelievable that such a vast array of experience and emotion can be forced into one evening.

Fuck.