A Song That Captures Our Rapture And An Individual Perspective

electricity oscillates
runs rampant as if alcohol is a super conductor
and we're the circuits linking it together
arcing from one to the next
until we vibrate the same frequency
the same harmony
tuned to her voice
 
we the milling rabble
await the next note
to play
try to fill empty ambiguities
that dance a moment before heading toward the
next high
the tune's amplified
hundreds of metres a second
a crashing wave of lightning
sparks a note within the collective
 
goose bumps raise on work hardened flesh
muscles torn and tensed through hours
of back breaking labour
ease as the inebriation
hits another layer
raucous men slap and push
demean and prick at each other
laughing in the face of their own demise
 
men don't feel anything the world whispers
 
but I feel
the cold glass in my hand
its liquid cool and refreshing
a layer of sanity added as I pour in a dose
of anaesthetic
 
terra-firma beneath the rubber
and steel capped toes grounding me
as I sway
 
the bar holds me
my forearms indented with mahogany
the pain a dull nothing
as I float on the strained cry of her
 
finally the wet of my eyes
as all those things I don't feel
leak out
 
and in a hushed breath
I am the silence