Mark Villar


My naked skin touches countless rays

With eyes closed, hand on head

I sway aimlessly to a musical jungle

As orange heat blurs my view


The beat quickens, nobody else listens

While both arms reach for the clouds

Beads of sweat linger loud and proud


Abruptly the song ends, my eyes openĀ 

To a ghost on the groundĀ 

Copying my every move