Saturday, March 6, 2010

COVETING CHAOS

Dance.

Swing.

Lose yourself.

Mosh.

Let the fucking bass take over.

Feel the turntable churning in your stomach. Let the spinal cord splinter into shards, each nerve exploding into a range of myriad electrified but distinct senses of ecstasy. Like an orgasm, only making the moment a continual warped loop of speechless breathtaking euphoria seemingly obliviating perpetuity.

Revel.

Celebrate.

Redeem.

Takeover.

Jarred to the hilt. Like a hit of Mexican gold leaf pot. Meshed with shooters of the Beijing Cocktail laced with untreated raw Cocaine. Add a heady mix of Vermouth to last the evening. Sitting in the corner near the epicentre of the woofer playing Wagner at full bass. Watch the drink swirling in the ultraviolet opacity of the darkness within.

Unleash.

Uncage.

Release.

Let go.

Light streak. Unmistakable clink of addictive metallic pyromania. Burn with the rice paper. Get absorbed in the simmer. Burn. Let the blue smoke swirl within. Numb the capillaries. Kill the alien congestion and the host of mortal sorrows with one rusted spear. Light the fuse. Watch as the circle of the pagan fire completes.

Ignite.

Combust.

Blaze.

Burn.

Give in to temptation. One step closer to insanity. Beyond lust and lecherous desire. Step forward. Claim your unworthy prize. Block out the good. Forget all ties. Break away. Wrench out the cancer and put it on a silver plate, smoldering as it coughs, flops over and dies. More smoke. Still more. Till you can taste the bile begging for mercy. A button. A strap. Silk gliding over silk, revealing the sum of all desires. This is where it stops. This is where it begins. Goose bumps. Inaudible screams of decibel shaming proportions.

Unison.

Sweat.

Blood.

Pride.

Disgust.

Disdain.

Let the debauchery begin.

Your move.