Cut the cords, let the ancient Adam go
They say when you hear the ringing in your ears, the schwann cells for that particular frequency are dying. You'll never hear that frequency again.
Bars. Clubs. Underground recording studios. Houses i'll never see again. I sat at a table behind the pulsing speakers and blaring lights streaming over the web of gyrating bodies. The music had made me mostly deaf hours ago, but the bass still ripped into my chest. Hypnotically. Sensually. Corrosively. Always such a strange feeling. Every sense pushed to the brim until we were hollow. I took a drag and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke sail to the ceiling through the strobe lights like a wayward prayer.
Today, I walked out of the house towards my car. The sky blue as ever, clouds streaking high like plane trails as the blaring sun tangled itself in them. An intensity I probably couldn't afford. I've been waiting... Or is it delaying? Cloud watching has become like a Rorschach inkblot test lately. It makes me nervous, but I look up anyhow.
My mirrored sunglasses broke the other day. I liked them because no one could see my eyes. Not the idle glances. Not the conflict. Not sadness. Not fear. Not joy. My eyes give me away if you know to look there. I found a new pair of purple tinted shades. They're perfectly translucent, but I like them. They turn the world a shade of cleaner light. Everything more vibrant and less dingy.
I could use the change.
Bars. Clubs. Underground recording studios. Houses i'll never see again. I sat at a table behind the pulsing speakers and blaring lights streaming over the web of gyrating bodies. The music had made me mostly deaf hours ago, but the bass still ripped into my chest. Hypnotically. Sensually. Corrosively. Always such a strange feeling. Every sense pushed to the brim until we were hollow. I took a drag and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke sail to the ceiling through the strobe lights like a wayward prayer.
Today, I walked out of the house towards my car. The sky blue as ever, clouds streaking high like plane trails as the blaring sun tangled itself in them. An intensity I probably couldn't afford. I've been waiting... Or is it delaying? Cloud watching has become like a Rorschach inkblot test lately. It makes me nervous, but I look up anyhow.
My mirrored sunglasses broke the other day. I liked them because no one could see my eyes. Not the idle glances. Not the conflict. Not sadness. Not fear. Not joy. My eyes give me away if you know to look there. I found a new pair of purple tinted shades. They're perfectly translucent, but I like them. They turn the world a shade of cleaner light. Everything more vibrant and less dingy.
I could use the change.