Sublime

Thumping,

Thumping,

Thumping in his veins

The beat of death and the failing rhythm of life.

Reaching, grabbing, missing with his hands.

.

It's banging on the wall.

Jittering in his chest and seizing his heart,

Forcing its cocaine beat into a different pattern.

The petals on the wall have begun to melt

And blood is dripping down his cheeks.

.

Out of time.

He stumbles and staggers and slams into the warm bodies

Undulating like a sea of fucking insects on the floor.

Walking, running, crawling.

Lying on his back and watching the world shutter by in waves.

.

It's a trip through the violent bass of the song,

A journey through the narrow hole carved between

Life and death

With no promise of escaping to the other side with a heartbeat.

He gasps, a fish swimming backward.

.

Sublime terror shreds through him,

Tears apart the sinews holding together his reality.

The song bumps into him, pushes him to the ledge,

And he can't keep hold of the guard rails,

Can't keep his feet from slipping, sliding into the canyon.

.

Where did the magic go?

When did the effervescent gold bubbling in his blood

Turn into something sinister

With teeth and claws and blades,

Eager to cut and wound and kill?

.

Hands reaching.

Hands grabbing.

Standing, moving, stumbling toward the exit sign,

A little red man running.

Eternally far away.

.

Sweet sweat and diabetic piss clings to the shadowed walls

Of a foul bathroom coated in nightmares.

Green eyes flash, jump left and right, skitter like a roach

Across the poorly illuminated tile walls,

Searching, searching, searching for an out.

.

For the tie.

It's there, he's sure, the connection between here and there,

Life and death.

Now and then.

Before and after.

.

He can't find it.

Not alive, not high, not sober.

It's pulsing through the tiles, pressing against palms.

He can hear it, the beat pounding against his eardrums,

Buzzing in his chest like a fat brood of cicadas.

.

Fists bang against the chipped tile.

It's there, it's there, it's fucking right there

But his nails can't pierce the veil and his teeth can't sink

Into the apple hard enough to bite through the poison

And find the antidote in its core.

.

He's stuck, a bug under a shoe, metal under the skin,

Stuck to the metronome vibrating the organ in his chest,

Ringing in his ears with mocking cruelty

As someone somewhere moans and succumbs

To the river winding between here and there.

.

The world shifts.

Jerks one way and then the other,

Grabs his collar and yanks until bile floods his throat.

Teeth, his teeth, pierce a dry lip and he tastes blood,

Sweet, salty iron.

.

It comes back like a prophecy,

Rocks through him as black devours his iris,

As a hollow scream catches in his throat.

He's flying, falling, shooting through the sky

Like a burning meteor.

.

Spinning like a chain swing ride at a carnival,

Red lights, bright lights, blue lights,

Screaming.

The nauseating stench of powdered elephant ears

Whipping by, looping by, a chain around the neck.

.

A noose.

A thumping, beating noose.

Hands, rhythmically squeezing.

The sink is filthy and there's black paint on the walls,

Words on the walls.

.

Warnings on the mirror.

Warnings painted across his eyes,

Devil horns curling from matted, messy black hair.

The porcelain has teeth, biting into his palms

And he's lost the plot.

.

Still the music, the hope, the sickness

Thumps, thumps, thumps against his temples

With pleading hands and desperate whispers

Because this can never be over,

Not when it's only just begun.