The strings first begin their sing

Woodwinds join the brass and blast

Percussion thunders the very thing

For mood then

System Of A Down At The 9:30 Club

It's nine o'clock and the lights dim.
The riotous crowd erupts into
a manic symphony of

Girls

Fall to the floor

When they're pushed around

In the pit

While,

Girls with torn

Fishnets

Who sit lazily on the couch

There are lights in the darkness
shimmering back and forth,
blurring,
like liquid butterflies.

Tones like earth-dirt and

Anticipation boils, a blistering irritation in the pit of my stomach just begging to be soothed into oblivion. My fingers