The Art of Loving a Corpse

         The room is dark and the air is heavy. It is hot and cramped. I felt the vibration of the amps against my pant legs. I reached up to wipe the sweat from my forehead as the singer let out an ear-piercing howl. He seemed to be looking right at me from the stage. Right through my chest and into my soul. He knew I was hurting as we all were. That’s why we flock to dirty venues. It is a home away from a home. A safe haven from forked tongues and pointed fingers.
         The vocalist was now on his back shaking with violent spasms. Growls and shouts exited his mouth. “What is so different between him and another human being?” He pounced back onto his feet and beat his face with his fist. Sweat flew off his skin and into the crowd. “He has a mouth. I have a mouth,” I thought to myself. “We are the same species, but he is a breed of expression. There is nothing cookie-cutter about him. He is a unique, beautiful, raw creature.” The music became brutal and the crowd became hostile.
         So why is it I come to dirty venues to get beat up by strangers? Well, why do I do a lot of things? When I make contact with a bystander they feel my hurt. I make them hurt. We hurt one another to cancel out the initial hurt. Does that make sense? Art isn’t supposed to make sense all the time, but it is supposed to express. This crowd is a breed of expression.
        The drummer smashes his cymbals. They ring through the room and reflect the lights onto the ceiling. The pattern is mesmerizing. My eyes follow the light. It turns my head and creates curiosity until it rests like a halo over a young girl’s head. I noticed her when I first came in. She is beautiful, radiant, and angelic. She looks as though she doesn’t belong in a dirty venue with smelly, sweating men, but she is obviously enjoying herself.
        I became fixated. I watched her sway to the music. Her hands moved up and down her hips. The friends she was standing with seemed in a daze. They were only interested in the lights and the excitement of the dance floor. I watched her raise her hands to the sky. It seemed as if she was trying to snatch light fragments from the air.
        A boy from the crowd was thrown in my direction and he hit me in my back. I spun away from the girl to face the boy and the crowd. Although I was annoyed at their carelessness, I gave the boy a hand and helped him to his feet. It was then I glanced back up at the singer. He was shirtless now. His skin was pale and clammy. He was drenched in sweat and the veins in his neck looked as though they were going to burst. His face was twisted in red agony and the noises he made enraged me. I felt his anger. I felt his hurt and I could relate. We were all hurting.
      “What a creature.” I thought. In all his anger and all his agony he expressed such beauty. It was almost overwhelming. He was making up for every instance I ever wanted to scream or shout. He was making up for every negative feeling and every offensive or obscene comment I want to make. He was the epitome of expression… a different breed.
      I can’t seem to fathom the fact that everyone on this planet is different. They seem the same to me. They all seem evil and cynical in their designer jeans and neckties. Everyone is always trying to get ahead of the next person. When will they learn to accept themselves and exploit their uniqueness? We’re all part of the human species, but only some are an expressive breed. Only some of us have evolved from a common human to a creating human.
      The singer was now bleeding. An open cut emitted blood down the side of his face and onto his chest. Welts from the microphone cord lined his abs, ribs, and pectorals. He was on his hands and knees at the end of the song. He seemed to be panting like a dog and desperately gasping at oxygen. “This is our last song for the night. I want to see everyone dancing. Thanks to everyone who came out to support us, you guys are the best. We got merch in the back for sale so please check it out. We’ll catch you guys the next time we come through.” And with that the band exploded back into a musical frenzy.
      The crowd acted as a wave and I was sucked into the abyss of the pit. Violence was all around me. I swung my arms and legs are hard as I could. I felt myself making contact and I loved it. My hurt began to subside when I saw her again. She glided into the center of the floor. Her face was still beautiful as ever and her hands were still aimed at the ceiling. As she passed me I noticed her eyes. They weren’t the eyes of a healthy individual. That was when she dropped.
The crowd split like the red sea as I watched my love hit the floor. White foam poured from her frightened mouth as her body went into a miraculous seizure. She slid out of her sandals and continued wiggling until her dress was up and exposing her panties. Soon her body came to a dead stop. A prescription pill bottle rolled out of her limp hand. It was then I realized this girl was dead. My love died in the middle of the dance floor. It was absolutely brilliant. Here I am in a dirty, dark, hot, cramped room getting violent with strangers to chaotic noise and I just witnessed death. My hurt was gone.
      My hurt was replaced with an indescribable feeling. I felt refreshed and new. Reborn. This girl could be my Jesus Christ. She seemed to have died for me. I wanted to hold her, hug her, and kiss her, but the bouncers wouldn’t let me near. I fought them to get to her until one pulled me out of the building.
      I was escorted happily from the venue. The epitome of belonging to a different breed was enough to keep me ecstatic for days. We’re creators. We’re expressers. We enjoy our torment because it is what we use as fuel. It is what keeps us going. It is what makes us, us.
      My love died for me today. It was the first time I ever saw a corpse and it was beautiful. Would I be wrong to say I loved her? Would I be wrong to compare her to Christ? She was a beautiful creature and she made a breath-taking corpse. Bravo! What a brilliant show! It relieved my hurt and showed the ultimate expression of our breed.