It's dark, windswept and cold but you have your alcohol blanket. You drink beer,  
smoke cigarettes, talk meaningless with friends and hear the first pluck of  
that guitar string and you feel alive. The band is on. A circle opens and kids run  
counter-clockwise, hurting each other. You feel so intimidated looking at it, you want  
to be safe in your complacent corner but, no, random arms push you in.  
     You cannot escape, drowning in a tangle of thrashing limbs, getting beer spilled on  
you, having rope scrape your face, getting your lip cut open, and suddenly you feel  
more alive than anyone even has the right to. You get angry, jump on people, push  
them over, elbow, punch, kick, orgasm. It's not enough for you. More. You run the  
opposite way, so every body has a chance to mercilessly smash into your own. Run.  
Faster. Faster. Yes, this is it, the high you've longer for. You could never get enough  
of the pain. You are now a moshochist.
      Tragically, the song ends, you stumble back to your friends hazy and disoriented.  
They pat you on the back, what? Are they proud? They give you a beer, light you up  
and then they ask you , "Hey man, are you okay?"
Written by NikkiNarcotic
Published | Edited 9th Jul 2018
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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