a terrible fight heard through the wall,
the crunch and squeal of two colliding cars...
early-’00s New York dance-punk bands
make a harrowing, provocative, often hilarious
mess of all of it...
somewhere between impassioned moan
and battlefield soldier’s dying grunt
writhes with clenched palms, bit lips,
shut eyes, ragged breaths, trickling fluids...
at the teeth-grinding climax,
too haunted to slot neatly into the ongoing
bodily desire as if it were a loathsome,
all-consuming affliction.