Ladys and Gentlemans

The wait is over, Ladies and Gentlemen.
Here and now you will be cured
A cloud or three is what you need
Then you’ll be freed
from the low down trampled chess
matches striking dry to wet slow sloppy start and sputter
clean, then. Now you try it.

Grate, grind, slide, slip, glide, rise, and reach
Rumble and preach
To the birds of the street that
You are not hungry
You are not tired
You are not bored
You are not what you were.

Step the steps that drag you out.
Hands bound - face down
Catch your train; I’ll catch mine,
And we’ll meet back to back
Behind Pergamus, burning.

Blackout

It's a typical Sunday afternoon. Breakfast feels like an underwater three-legged race. I waited until I could dress it in lunch's clothes and smuggle it past the sentries that would otherwise dutifully and forcefully reject it. The smells of the previous night's wanderings (basil and old chair) lay claim to my body, confident that they will not be challenged by soap and water until late in the afternoon. I work at that task that most honestly reminds me of my servitude to the man: The lab report. The tables turn at 2:25. My screen dims, my speakers turn off, and the hall goes dark. These events are followed by shouts and clatter throughout the dorm. No Power! The man has lost his power! There could not be a more perfect illustration of the fragility of the status quo. I watch with elation as the minutes drop off my estimated battery life. 4 hours until salvation. 3.25 hours until salvation. .5 hours until salvation. .25...Fuck it (salvation).

As the sun sets, I watch the campus descend the ladder of beloved civilization. One rung after another, it carefully steps down, down. When we realize our direction, that we are being carried down, that fingers are not being pointed, we jump off the ladder and start digging a hole. The events of the night unfold inside that dark, lawless hole. Culpability is left some way up the ladder along with facial visibility. Identities change, merge, and disappear altogether. One by one, my schoolmates give up their loyalty to the absent tyrant as they lie down their books and pens for something different. The campus as a unified body and without hesitation reaches for nearby heavy blunt objects to repel the darkness: drugs, destruction, sex.

A phone conversation: "The power just went out so we're gonna start drinking right now! How awesome is that?...I know, right?!"

Sex sounds penetrate all four walls of my room (one is a 3rd story wall facing a parking lot); Candles are burned inside dorms; the glow sticks come out; the glow sticks are burned inside dorms (bad news); an emergency alert e-mail is sent warning that burning of candles inside dorms is extremely dangerous. After 45 minutes in the dark, I find myself staring at a flame from a bic lighter in a very small room surrounded by glow sticks and alarmingly sweaty clearly-asking-for-it non-faced girls.

This is my element. I am at home, as many of my peers are. These were the conditions under which we developed our human identity. Fire, dancing, sex, destruction. We instinctively reach for our natural selves: blunt, heavy objects.