Half limp you writhe awake in the pit, come to and weakened you waken to move, to squeeze out between the edges of the soaked, squeeze manoeuvred attempts to penetrate and push out of the throb, slip the throng, channel a line and glide on the pearling dew of humid ghosts, dense scent of saturation clinging to fabric plastered rib impressions. Feel exhausted, like, all the body, every limp fibre off fleek, a physical exhaustion from hours awake, from ecstasy, from trauma, from muscular motions /step count/ it’s adrenal fatigue 101, crack down on all supplies, drained dry the body sweats, heart sweats, cochlear sweats as you flow through the crowd and the half ton of orgone energy, the mass, the omnipresent substance of body on bodies that are half-bodies, half-shapes on the pulse, penetrating half-faced under strobe stretching thin the putty of locked limbs, stretching sub-atomic, the follicular, the molecular, speakers beating mass on mass of Sunday mass, a trash compactor, compacting the life out of lungs, compacting you in stranger danger, compelling the body to move, to take flight, quick flighted direction of chaotic stumble, stammered stumble, staggered wide-eyed, red-eyed pleas, treating the exoskeleton of your soul’s captivity to the full force of emotive action, the mind’s essence already 10, 20 deep ahead, dragging the husk by force of will, with arms out reaching for a good ol’ void, a good ol’ vacuum, for a dense dark dream of isolation, of space behind space, of clear air, clean breeze, pulling all last reserves to the forefront of motor movements until it’s you in the L’Oréal waterfall commercial, the secluded grove of hydration, the blissful gravitational pour, except it’s you by the water bar downing cup after cup after iced gasped breaths and grasps of the counter, calling for more as liquid tracks lines over lips, overflowing the mouth when head tilts back, glistening rivulets running over chest bone as, part-sated, you take tide from the tap up to the balcony, making leatherette wet as you slide in to the stall, to hang head in hands in high defence, washing in fevered half-opened-eyed malaise, tapped-out tiredness on to the Formica table top, compelling sleep well, rest well, whilst crowd clapped cries recede faintly below coasting on the thick fog of a muffled anthem, with white light, red light, cut light, beacons roving in the semi-matte black, high voltage rotations radiating on closed lids, clipping into the dark vent and pipework of the submerged