What The Thunder Said, Vol 4 | Page 16

Carnage

by Esemel Valles

The faint smell

Of tobacco. That hated smell,

Forever fused into

Skin, sheets and Mind.

Last night,

Every flashing light

Every piercing shriek

Every bass note from the

Disk jockey’s turntable,

Pulsing through

Every vein, every blood cell

Every artery surrounding

My heart.

We become one with the sounds

Of the rave,

Turning us into one level

Below cannibalism,

Grabbing onto whoever was unlucky enough to be

Beside you.

Both bodies dancing in trance

To the sounds of the bass,

Because you’ll never remember his face.