Aisha, do not focus on the ring. Energy, romance racing through your jeans. And down the hall, parents wishing they were dead Because someone somewhere put a promise in your head. "Does it feel alright? How does it feel?" Nailed to the floor. Your ponytail goes on for days. Forevermore, you're lacerated, un-abstained. Activity is enough When activity is in love. "Does it feel alright? How does it feel?" These are my primitive feelings on sophisticated dealings