You feel the beat. You hear the tune. You tap your feet, and then just: Boom.
Splat!, you hear. Your neurons blow. Splat!, you hear. It’s time for the show. Splat!, you hear. You want to die. Splat!, you hear. You start to cry.

Melancholy melodrama. The carpet is made of llama. Tingling feeling in your toes. Round and round your head it goes.

Trivial trifles, slippery slopes, riveting rivals. It just goes to show…

It’s in your head. It’s in your HEAD! You’re going mad. You’re going MAD!

Then soothing silence, a calming color. Legs and heads and arms and fat. Flesh. Naked. Horror. Sacred.

The alcoves, yes the alcoves. A maze, amazing, a trail still for blazing, a heart full of hope and, yes, despair. This pear: so green, so brown, so free of care. A smile and then a frown. Madmen give me the crown.

Splat!, you hear. Your neurons blow. Splat!, you hear. It’s time for the show. Splat!, you hear. You want to die. Splat!, you hear. You start to cry.

There was a boom. You tapped your feet. You heard a tune. You felt a beat.

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