June 20, 2011

Dancing (May 22, 2011)

“There’s been an accident,” the policeman says as you push through the door to take a look at it, and it’s grisly and gory like a B movie and you know the driver’s face.

It’s the letdown after the supposed end when no one has died and the lights come in, and you’re on the floor cause you can’t get up. It’s hell. It’s hell. It’s hell.

You can’t tell a soul what you see in your head. Or bring on the chaos, bring on the chaos. You can’t tell a soul what you see in your head. Just scream, scream, scream.

So you dance in the dark like you know the beat and the dust starts to scatter underneath your feet. And it’s bones on the floor but no one seems to care. They don’t notice you leave.

A boy grabs your hand and asks if you’re okay. You’ve got blood in your mouth all choked back to say that you’re perfectly fine, and he says you lie. You stand right up and go.

You can’t tell a soul what you see in your head, erratic and crazy, erratic and crazy. You can’t tell a soul what you see in your head. You can’t ever, ever speak.

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