Ground Control

by October 2, 2009 0 comments

We glided in guided by floated I love yous posted there by a soon-to-be-passed-out angel who was feeling each heart beat with heated feelings to the core of her being…or at least until the drugs, ecstasy we suspected…stopped working.

We met our hosts who promptly asked us burning questions like, what’s your burner name? and what’s your burning game and…and…it was all so weird and trippy and wacky until finally we got to feeling just fine as the hand-slapped ecstasy kind of kicked in. We rolled down the windows of our souls just to see if we could fit in with this crew of wacked out party people.

Androgynous men and glittered girls, fire-eaters and glowstick twirls, rolling thru the twighlight hours, clenched jaws, bugged-out eyes, just ain’t so funny when time’s flown by and look at that, it’s 4:00 a.m. and the night is oh-so-old and everything we could have said has done been told, we got burned out on these wacked out party people.

We said good night and bid farewells, broken was their burning spells…the party favors had run their course and in it’s place came dawn’s remorse, we said (or did we?) we’d be back for more and made our way to the door. Thanks for having us in your steeple all you wacked out party people.

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