Music pricked his ears,
pouring straight
into his soul,
transforming him
into a creature,
wind in his fur,
flies in his teeth,
lifted from love’s arms,
its primitive heart
barely beating.
Poetry through the Seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer
First of all, thank you for the Oz feelings. Again, I wonder at your knack of picking serious bits of wacky episodes.
Second of all, flies in his teeth! ^^ That sounds like mindless fun times, all right.