Love them, hate them, fuck them. Usually in that order.

Lost Weekend

Lost in that sea of bodies—in that vortex of lust and longing, ecstasy and numbness, vibrant colour and vivid motion—

Oscillating wildly between excitement and envy.
Endless energy and kisses aplenty.
Drawn into the song, into a rhythm you can see exploding before your eyes, shards splintering across the endless dancers, elevating us all.

Then the crash. The oscillating ends, resting on envy. On the cold streets, you see the world through tear glazed eyes. It's a numb pain, devoid of true feeling and hurt, yet the tears flow regardless at the end of this lost weekend.