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Created on 2003-01-24 12:06:25 (#870095), last updated 2005-01-09
14 comments received, 1,166 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
2 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 3 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | Becca |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 10-29 |
| Location: | Dunwoody, Georgia, United States |
BioLie down. Feel the weight rush out of your limbs. Feel the music start to invade, tugging at your fingertips, pulsing through your veins. The only thing bidding your heart to beat or your breath to keep coming. Slow. Rythmic.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Lose all sense of body. Everything's weightless. Too weak to resist. Just the music, holding you up, sending ripples of pleasure across your cortex. Try to focus on something solid but it all begins to melt away. Music takes on color, takes on shape. Encroaches on the horizons of consciousness. Edges the reality out of vision. Insanity. Unsanity.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
It's in your blood and it is your blood. Vibrates in the air around you. Spiraling, undulating. Falling in(through)to yourself and listening to the glorious distortions. Rise. Fall. Hanging onto the last reverberations as the new take over, force their way in. Vibrations. Distortions.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Alarm gets twisted up in the music. All mention of buttons is futile just now. Can't seem to find the source of the buzzing to make it stop. Distortion lingers. Can't seem to turn it off. A dull hum. It's trapped in my blood.
Groggily finding legs which stretch farther away from the floor in both directions as I rise. Standing. Try to find my body.
Pulse.
Low and dull I find Hands. Legs. Arms. Feet. Head. All operating independantly of one another. Through the motions, through the hoops. Down the hall out the door across the street and up the steps. Check my watch. Going through the motions.
Reassure myself several times I'm wearing the proscribed amount of clothing. underwearsockspantsshirtshoeswalletinthatorder. Check my watch. Going to be late.
Each step streches my head farther away from my feet. I must be seven or eight feet tall by now. Avenues expand and contract slowly. Lazily. People wash by like waves of molasses. Mouths. Eyes. Hands moving marionette-like. Do they not notice the dumbfounded expression I'm sure I'm wearing?
For some reason, one man keeps becoming a balding, red gorilla, frollicking in the waves. The grinning sea, lapping at the steps, washing over the marble. I wish he'd stop doing that. I try to think of the best way to get past him. Try again to find my feet, which seem to have disappeared. Steady myself across the steps and the sea.
Another face jars me awake as it drifts smilingly by.
My head stays and turns back after him, but the rest of my body continues on. Check my watch. How is it possible for time to stretch this far?
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Lose all sense of body. Everything's weightless. Too weak to resist. Just the music, holding you up, sending ripples of pleasure across your cortex. Try to focus on something solid but it all begins to melt away. Music takes on color, takes on shape. Encroaches on the horizons of consciousness. Edges the reality out of vision. Insanity. Unsanity.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
It's in your blood and it is your blood. Vibrates in the air around you. Spiraling, undulating. Falling in(through)to yourself and listening to the glorious distortions. Rise. Fall. Hanging onto the last reverberations as the new take over, force their way in. Vibrations. Distortions.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Alarm gets twisted up in the music. All mention of buttons is futile just now. Can't seem to find the source of the buzzing to make it stop. Distortion lingers. Can't seem to turn it off. A dull hum. It's trapped in my blood.
Groggily finding legs which stretch farther away from the floor in both directions as I rise. Standing. Try to find my body.
Pulse.
Low and dull I find Hands. Legs. Arms. Feet. Head. All operating independantly of one another. Through the motions, through the hoops. Down the hall out the door across the street and up the steps. Check my watch. Going through the motions.
Reassure myself several times I'm wearing the proscribed amount of clothing. underwearsockspantsshirtshoeswalletinthatorder. Check my watch. Going to be late.
Each step streches my head farther away from my feet. I must be seven or eight feet tall by now. Avenues expand and contract slowly. Lazily. People wash by like waves of molasses. Mouths. Eyes. Hands moving marionette-like. Do they not notice the dumbfounded expression I'm sure I'm wearing?
For some reason, one man keeps becoming a balding, red gorilla, frollicking in the waves. The grinning sea, lapping at the steps, washing over the marble. I wish he'd stop doing that. I try to think of the best way to get past him. Try again to find my feet, which seem to have disappeared. Steady myself across the steps and the sea.
Another face jars me awake as it drifts smilingly by.
My head stays and turns back after him, but the rest of my body continues on. Check my watch. How is it possible for time to stretch this far?
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
ConnectInterests (1):
music to fuck to.
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