Arcade of Disfigurements (Party! Party! Party!)

I'm a strobe!

I'm disfigured!
I slide off walls!
In room
vacuums of pulse and poise.

I think the music fancies me,
it finds my frills,
I'm so unstuck -
and stop.
Stare off.

Then lift again.

Fuck man I can't not love my friends.

Each moment flits green white blue
epilepsy.
Shooting
space
and I into
whirring
strumming
my muscles' lute:
please loud machine,
unmechanise me,
oil these joints and
sodomise me.

I'll strut up pure pangs like fists
Or sex,
and
speaking of, they're options here:
but, does the minx's glint
hint a relaxing orifice?
Or reflect light shows?
This our shit show, this full farce of
limbo bongo.
I'd go ask but my flask's full.
Ok I'll go and gulp a few.
And ah she's gone, oh well, new song!
I recognise this one, when I was young
so very young...

Ah yes!
Everyone sings along!

Come ground accommodate us now,
we sycophants for tickled youth.
Recalling our culling, cool and such
unlikely collection.

Yes if you want life,
then get some friends,
a half handful will do.
You want to lull and lie?
They'll have that too,
piped next to you.

In Arcades of Disfigurement,
and love tunnels of noise,
some rowdy random
fuckers have no tact.
We can't have that,
someone snap that!

How old am I?

No one knows in respons-disability,
sound blooms nonsense and this our
shining slither's age for so!

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This will be a spoken word piece, apologies if you've lost breath.