Trigger Warning: drug use, nihilism, dancing the pain away
WATER HAMMER
The dancefloor is a giant decompression chamber, the mouth of every organ gasping for release. The ticket is a key-bump of K and a mystery pill I hope to God isn’t fent effervescing inside me as fractals balloon in the corner of my vision—I paid good money to stick this record needle in my eye and rake the vinyl, wiping memories like a magnet. I summon endorphins like a warlock, a rain-dancer, blink twice and lose all my data to corruption. Crush and snort whatever that was and we barrel past the whole point of this Godforsaken operation. A place so dense that everything cuts but nothing hurts. A place where even mother’s milk churns to rock-sludge, heavy and conductive as gold and just as cold in the gut. Bitter as the ice flakes crusting our noses as we dance into another New Year, into another End of the World. But the world never ends on schedule. The world is still grinding teeth in the smoking room waiting for the high to peak, dancing in the dark just beyond the terminator of the bloodshot sun. Tonight the world is wasted and just wants to collide with everything under the moon. Fuck randoms and puke. Howl in abject fear of abandonment and even louder in wild abandon when the DJ drops the real banger. The bass cresting the horizon with fire, I am alone as I bow my head into the speaker cone. A roll that fills every hollow of the body. The whole world is all alone in that sound. Every indicator on the brink, the cascading failure stacked as high as the system is complex. Shoulder to shoulder we hold the line, brace for the hammer of the morning tide— we hold that breath for miles and miles waiting for something to rupture.
“The world is still grinding teeth in the smoking room waiting for the high to peak.”
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Added some AI art to the post because it's 2023 and if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.