calm rose: violent wind

you know when you’re at a concert and the band plays a new release that you don’t really know yet and you’re just like

i should have studied

            It is an inferno of energy. Hundreds are gathered on their feet, set ablaze and melting away the stresses and worries of days now behind them. Hundreds are letting go of their cares together, dropping their lives in each other’s hands. Hundreds of sardines crammed and huddled together in the cramped tin can concert venue. Jumping, climbing, and swinging. Screaming, chanting, and singing. This is my sanctuary. The stage is where my heart will rest.

            The band jumps in time with the crowd; the build. Everything stops, as tension pin-pricks the air with its electric caress. The silence is foreign to our conditioned ears, though it lasts only a few fleeting seconds. Everyone in unison screams as loud and as hard as their bodies will allow, and then a fast ball of caution is hurled head-on at the wind. Chaos makes laps around the brains of every soul in the room. The time signature shatters from a whizzing jet to a crawling snail. The music breaks down, and order with it.

            The crowd erupts into circles of those unafraid of letting go. Arms fly and legs kick. Those who fall are offered the overwhelming sense of camaraderie in the form of a dozen helping hands. This is their home, and the crowd is their family. We take care of our own, and we leave no one behind. We are not fighting, we are expressing. There is no hatred in our punches, no malice in our swings. Here you will only find passion and bravery.

            The vocalist’s booming voice commands us now, the ethereal roar demanding that we divide the crowd in half. We eagerly obey, because every person here knows what comes next. An earthquake splits the room in half and we scrutinize each other across the deserted plain of No Man’s Land. With goose-pimpled skin and every hair alert and on end, we anxiously await our cue. Finally he counts 3, 2, 1, and we charge. I am dragged along with the stampede of those hungry for more. This is what has been affectionately nicknamed a Wall of Death. Two halves slam into one and we are whole again.

More circles open up. I am pushed inside and revolve around the others like a planet. As one body moves, another follows. This unseen gravitational pull forces us left and right, up and down, and back again. Worlds collide and fix their rotations upon one another again and again. Our little galaxy is exploding.

            The crowd sways, and I rock with it. I am swept away by the stormy tide of a hundred brothers and sisters. I tap the shoulder of the one in front of me and point to the sky, and he grabs my hand and helps me climb into it. I am surfing now. The sea carries me toward the shore as I twist and jerk to keep myself afloat. The waves are faithful, and my journey ends with a much-sought-after handshake from the vocalist. I run back to take my place and drown among the others.

It is too hot, and we are exhausted, but we persevere with razor-tipped words piercing our hearts, urging us to go on. The final note rings out and boroughs its way through our ears and sinks into our skin like oil. Our voices are hoarse, our throats are dry, and our skin is soaked with sweat. Through and despite our exhaustion, we give all that is left of us to the words of the last song. We would not trade a moment for the world. This is our sanctuary, and this is our solace. The outside world sees violence, but here we find peace.

Our bodies have been run ragged, and we sleep until the sun peeks harshly through our windows and urges us up to face the new day with its blinding golden glow. We are filthy and sore, but we are new.

It is a war without enemies. It is a battlefield without casualties. It is frightening and chaotic, but it is the only environment of its kind. Everyone wants to be heard, and despite the ear-splitting volumes consistently maintained by the speakers and our screaming comrades that ensconce us, we can be. We are surrounded by people who understand us. We are surrounded by people who are willing to listen. We are surrounded by people who have been through what we have been through.

This is our outlet, and we know that no one will judge us here. There is a pure, refined sense of acceptance felt in a sea of people who have the courage to let go of their pride. We are all in it together. This is our sanctuary. The stage is where our hearts will rest.

if you don’t know the entire poem at the end of memphis will be laid to waste then get out of my face

my second time seeing The Chariot, my 8th time seeing For Today, 3rd time seeing As I Lay Dying, and 7th time seeing The Devil Wears Prada

they’re all as phenomenal as ever

what an incredible show

the chariot and for today should have had a way longer set

i got to meet steve and david from the chariot and they were the nicest dudes i’ve ever met

out of all the shows I’ve been to, i think this is the most sore i’ve ever been

i can’t move my neck and left shoulder at all

and this is how i feel