contact

Seemingly unlimited space above, making way through bodies, the smell of sweat so strong you can almost taste it. Passing eyes all facing the south. Most you can tell aren't hearing the vibrations coming from the speakers their eyes are void of thoughts, so strung out on various designer drugs, others who can barely stand because alcohol has started to limit the control they have over their own bodies. Walking in beat with the heavy bass the crowd lessens in density with every few steps. And finally air, cooler air finally relieves the damp skin. Inhaling air void of the salty taste of sweat. Steps quicken on the path that leads to the double doors that grant absolute freedom from this haze of adolescent escape. Palms press gently against the door and a quick glance back into the faceless crowd, that finds its escape in this meaningless way, gets rid of any doubts about the decision that's been made. With a hard shove the brisk air of the evening almost knocks you back, the moon and stars light the way, with the pounding of the bass matching the rhythm of the heart. The pace quickens as you realize contact has left you in the state of the rest of the mass. This unwelcome haze has left you with limited options. Going back in, you will succumb to the numbness of your peers. Leaving in this state could get you behind some thick vertical bars, in a crumpled heap of metal, or if the decline of mental awareness continues.......