Destructive Xylophone Masters
Walking was now impossible
For this disassociated wreck
as the unknown force within my chest
Jumped the pendant around my neck.
Put one step before the other
Only to see concrete there instead
The pressure from a strangers glare
Matched the pressure inside my head.
I descend gracefully down the stairs
With able help from hands and knee
Where to I attempt to join the line
For a ride I could not yet see.
One Weightless hand held tight to rail
The other missing in the orbit of my legs
As the crowd moves up I tell myself
“Just follow the lines of heads”
Rushed into a seat like an abattoir with sheep
Nauseous while my stomach began to churn
Of course I knew that this would happen
But still I dreaded as my throat began to burn.
The seat then blasted around the track
And my head was bursting through the seams
I was thrown straight down and thrust back up
And made a mess somewhere in-between
I dismounted with understanding grace
The same way the blind would a rocking boat
But when fell upon me a thousand eyes
I knew they suspected everything; plead guilty, that I won’t
My full bladder bounced against my pelvis
There’s no point trying to empty that anytime soon
I zombie walked Disorientated
In circles in the spotlight, obviously a guilty substance loon
“You have to draw a mental line from here to the exit squiggling around all the security guards… and do your best to follow it."
i decided to elaborate on some dot points describing a feeling and got carried away.
does anyone know what the protaginist is on? any guesses? (your real savvy hunter S thompson types will get it)