Saturday Evening Poetry

Just a few short poems I jotted down a few days ago while laying in Dolores Park.

The Stand

Laying next to you, I feel nothing.
My head throbs, my throat is dry.
You caressed me with such a formula.
I reacted, but my nerves felt worn out, disconnected.
There is nothing here.
Nothing here.

The apex comes anew.
All is settled.
Time to go.

The Bar

Red lights calling.
BAR, BAR, BAR
The ants stream in to meet their queen.
Eyes are opened wide. It is time to go headstrong into the throngs.
Human touch surrounds.
The air is heavy, the bodies warm.
I am one of the masses, part of the body.

The music envelops, the bass grabs my circulatory system as if it was a grapevine.
It pulls it down, and pushes it out.
I am gone, an individual no more.