I am watching the process of decay.
There, in front of the stage, surrounded by dark walls cluttered with posters, stickers and permanent ink, is a living ruin.
Anticipation is tugging my heart in opposite directions, splitting it into two between the exit and the pit.
It's an angry swarm of dark denim knees, the flints of fists hitting faces, handfuls of hair and blood-ash elbows. Vocal chords are dragging tight against guitar strings.

With my thumbs hooked to my belt loops, I flatten my left shoe with my right and chew my lip. My eyes strain from trying to punctuate the crowd. Under the flash of angry shadows, so many angry kids become a singular mechanism. I am watching one ecosystem, a beast.

I lean toward the pit. I want to smell the rage and sweat and spit, let my insides adapt and reach equilibrium before I submerge. But my pulse is telling me otherwise, racing so fast, slapping my palms; a Morse code reminding me of all the instincts and fears we are given at birth.
Are you crazy? It’s dangerous.

But just then my skin feels like suede, some exterior that isn’t mine. My blood, every muscle, every tendon is tight and straight and simple.
You touch my bare arms and feel polyester, you feel material. Inside, you’ve been liquefied and I take a step closer.

There is a comfort in being stripped of identity. You enter the vicious current of shoulders and hips, and we become it. Everyone is reduced and evened out to a slumping height. Bodies ebb and flow, giving and receiving punches, bending to accept the shock of each blow and retaliating. You can’t see faces when they’re pressed so close against yours; knuckles become enormous gusts, collective and heavy like a boulder.

And there is a comfort in becoming part of something.
No control, no responsibilities. Apathy isn’t always a curse.
Each steal-toed blow to my shins sends a heavy electric current up to my hips. My elbows bounce to the shock of fast contact. I could swear my ribs were leaning inward, looking for safety in my core like kids in a bomb shelter.

There's a dull crack; I feel the warmth of a low, loud noise flood the intricate canals of my ear, seeping down my jaw, cheekbone and brow. My mouth fills with heat and softness and the taste of acid. The bodies around me give way, disintegrate into what's behind edges; curves, fabric, all things malleable. I feel the air wrapping thicker around me, cradling me until my back is flat against the floor.
I open my eyes and I can feel the side of my face blossoming with a maternal curve. i think of an eclipse. Pain is pawing what’s under my flesh. The ceiling blurs the profiles of faces and purses. I feel hands wriggle beneath me and my head rolls back as my body rises.

Softer, softest, until I’m left in a shadow.

Pain, chaos, and all the fears you once manifested in monsters and nightmares are around you now, so tight it’s flooded inside. Hurling yourself into the eye of the storm, savoring each begging instinct and letting the signals between your body to your brain get mixed up, you have become whole.

The fear tastes sweet and metallic and familiar. A strangers hands on my face. I can feel a voice asking if I’m alright, and my chest explodes in efforts to reply.  I try and swallow but a swollen desire gets stubborn in my throat.