Ignorant Reverence.

So, it all was similar -- I wandered down the streets, weaving in and out of the boomboxes blasting beautiful ambient music, I was aching for feeling free, yet had to remind myself to open my hands and feel the open space in the middle of my palms. I tried to make my own, but I suppose I didn't try particularly hard. We covered more ground than usual -- walking faster with bigger strides, not being held back for anything, not even by streetlights. After, I ate alone, I read about horses, I took my time. And then I took the train, walking in careless circles looking for the show. It wasn't much, really -- the loud plugged in sounds and the real feelings of getting stuff out felt good to watch, but then things got weird -- you know, we're breathing wild gas out of balloons, getting high like children -- we all know we're too old for this, but do it anyways, inhaling deep, and then stumbling around. Of course that feels good -- when you're floating around, laughing,and feeling dumb and happy, but then you think about why -- why we're huddled in unheated warehouses, filling ourselves with cheap, sour, flat beer, shoving shit up our noses, inhaling wild smoke, punching each other in the shoulders and watching our friends fall to their knees on stage, making noise so loud we stuff our ears with toilet paper, while they wail in ignorant reverence, aching for wholeness, but having no idea that something's missing. They roll around wrestling on the floor, with shit-eating grins, while the girls stand back and smile uncomfortably, I sure hope no one gets hurt.