I don’t pause desire to make it pretty.
When the mood hits, I move.

This feels like an old recording.
Private. Unpolished. Never meant to be shared.

The rhythm is familiar.
The pauses deliberate.
The control already decided.

Nothing here was prepared;
That’s why it feels real.

When I’m in control, I don’t wait for the room to be ready.
I move.
And whoever’s watching learns to keep up.

You’re not seeing something new.
You’re watching it happen again.