After an hour of our suffering

Through cacophonies of screeching guitars

And poorly executed lyrics,

The headlining band took to the stage.

The crowd went wild

And soon

We,

Their congregation,

Rose to our feet.

It was an awesome sight.

A man draped in scarlet

Plugging his digits

Into the sockets of the strings.

He fondled that guitar

And it squealed with delight.

His voice smoldered

And the embers from his throat

Flared out of his mouth

And into an energized audience.

A woman behind the drums

Switched up her rhythms.

It was almost arousing

To see her playing beats.

Starting off slow and gentle,

Then slamming the high hat

Into orgasmic spasms.

We jammed out

With air drums and guitars.

Outstretched arms.

Head banging.

Clapping.

Screaming.

Chanting along with the lyrics

As if we were entranced in prayer.

Lights from all regions of the spectrum

Shone throughout the arena

Like specks of dust

Spiraling around in a cyclone.

Indigo strobe flashes encapsulated us

Towards the end of the set.

Throughout the concert.

The duo packed a wallop.

A septet of national militias couldn't blow them away.

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