This is your last falling. Your last of it all. You will survive on the sweat dripping into your eyes. Your heart beating with the amp. Your arms pumping blood through out them as you tense to strum the guitar. You can not see. You can not hear. All you know is that there is a crowd in front of you creating higher decibles than the music you are producing. You feel their collective heat brush against your wet body. You feel it in waves. The chaos in the sound of you, the sound of the audience, and the sound of the music all together make silence. Note after note bounces in your brain, and despells through your fingertips. The pic is your leader. You look up to see the audience before you. Your hair in thick strands glazed with sweat. You see the bobbing heads and fixed hands in the air through blurry eyes. This is your favorite part. The lights dim, the crowd collapses, and you disappear. The show is over.

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