(Blog Continues below...)
Uncle Mike’s Band
Severed-head-disco ball scouts the dance floor, spinning its absurd axis.
Demons dance...Spirits fly...down the gullets of hoary beasts. How they shriek, as they digest, over and over for eternity.
The band is ready. Human tendons tuned on monstrous bass guitars. Flesh stretched tight on primal drums. Lead Siren spitting words, her lyrics hiss from snaky speakers. The patrons groove in a trance.
The bloodied staff cries in angst, werewolves howl, vampires feast. A VIP guest am I, earning high status for my life. Hell’s a party. Hell’s a blast.
Hell is the VIP pass.
Hell is Disco for the dammed. Doomed to numbing light and sound.
Severed head, disco ball, I scout the scene, spinning on my absurd axis.
|Photo by Jason Jack and Heidi Ruby Miller|
*And to date I seem to have survived the ordeal with minimal physical and emotional scars