unfamiliar sketch
a huge room, a huge empty abyss during the day, but at night it comes alive, it is to small for words at night. at night they come, the people. from all over new york they arrive. the room is dark, darker than most pitch black eye liner caressing his eyes. but at once, when the people come, it become brilliantly illuminated. their lives, the banker, homeless man, doctor, teacher, janitor, slut, they come from all over, crashing together, there collision causing a blinding collage of light. lives mixed with the black lights, bring the boring room to life, turning the boring walls into a mural of exotic colors. the whites in the room pierce pupils like a thousand needles puncturing a newly sewn pin cushion. the skin of every man, of every woman is looking darker, clearer, more appealing the longer they are in the room. strobe lights seizure in the darkness, making us move fast, faster, it changes their minds work, fast, faster they go. the strobe goes as if a man, in some far away hospital, being watched by a nurse as the ecstacy in his body makes his heart monitoring machine go crazy. but the people on the streets think this room is crazy: the ecstacy, the black lights, strobe lights, miraculous colors, sex, drugs, alcohol; the minds of the people within fighting for the disco bloodbath.