Minds, ecstasy-drenched and abused, stumble aimlessly and insanely, in and out and around incoherent thought, a single pleasure, of a nerve-jarring wholeness we only think we feel.

...and the beats are causing the floor beneath our feet to shake and thump along to a hollow bass, and I'm dumbed by the deep, low sounds of a nothing that keeps us dizzy and dancing and drowned in this heat.

Body heat is causing me to sweat from my ocean of pores and I'm sharing my sweat with you, and you with me. We swap bodily fluids like we would phone numbers. It's just as good as getting laid here.

My mind is racing with colors and sounds and shapes I never knew existed. Pills dance on my tongue and from my fingertips to yours, and we share in this euphoria and this loss of inhibition. We're losing ourselves to the concocts of community college drop-outs, and over-the-counter medications, and the mere feeling of sharing a common bond with someone else here. It's just as good as getting laid here.

Everything moves in slow motion. Bodies sway to nonexistant rhythms, feet tap to music that I can't listen to. All sound is lost. All is calm. All is chaos. All is a contradiction. All is a new sensation of an over-abundance of pleasure. All is too keenly detailed; all is beautiful.

I'm too caught up in this.
I'm too caught up in everything in and out and around me.
It's just as good as getting laid here.

Then the tables get turned.

...and I'm shaking and coughing and spurting this euphoria from within me in sudden, ugly heaves. I'm crying and lying on the ground; dead to those feelings.

I want to be alive again, I want to be there again.

...and I'm talking to myself, and I'm telling myself that this wasn't the way it was supposed to be.

It wasn't supposed to be taken from me.

My feelings of happiness were just an abuse, a rape caused by the choice to take a litte something that was offered to me. I exploited my perceptions and perspectives and emotions, and I loved every minute of it.

...and the beats are causing the floor beneath our feet to shake and thump along to a hollow bass, and it's as if nothing is happening at all.

Watch out. I'm coming down.

It's just as good as getting laid here.

The Weather Underground - 2008-11-12
- - 2008-05-06
She knows I can read. - 2008-05-06
William Jacobson - 2008-05-02
Lost Boys - 2008-04-30