By Spencer Fuller
That Evening in Houston
They said it was like a concert in hell
an undulating flood of mass asphyxia and fervor
a megabody surged as their God took the stage
the friend you were standing with absorbed into the horde
trampled
digested by Vans Air Forces Stan Smiths and Chuck Taylors cosplaying gastric acid
in forty minutes eight die dozens incapacitate and a few scream
while hundreds dance, a thousand watch thru camera phones while the One performs
His siren song
the especially devout dance like amphetamine smoke over their pin cushion comrades
"don't stop the show you're too soft you didn't come to rage"
bodies lost in the sea of apathy while Samaritan voice boxes implode in simultaneity
Hearing the story reminded me of when I too gathered to bear witness to the One
I stood in an ocean of thousands slave to his song under the guillotine of night
I had never been in a crowd so big and felt so small
at the mercy of bodies entranced
One lining its pockets with all of our dollars and some of our lives
when I survived I was happy to have made it
those who didn't still haunt the melodies of the songs they were trampled to

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