The Fanatic

He stands on the stage bathed in white light,

matted dark hair curls around bright, intense eyes.

Stood like a God in his All Mighty temple,

a multitude of followers gather to worship at his feet.

Fervent fingers caress the guitar over his shoulder

and a peppering of his sweat rains down on the auditorium,

in a hot delivery of every magnetic beat.

Thousands of thirsty eyes peer from the darkness

and hungry ears anticipate the taste of something sweet...

When,

Suddenly, a stubbled jaw plants a wet kiss on the microphone:

Electric,

Enigmatic,

Enticing,

I tremble;

overcome with pangs of heat.

I feel an emotion so strong, immediate, lustful,

as I stand there in the darkness tingling with sensory overload.

A desire so powerful, lively and exciting,

eventually reaches climax via a scream at the stage.

Rather an underwhelming response to this unique seduction!

And I realise I am one with the wet, dark masses,

screaming and pulsing in one frantic movement;

just another cog in this manufactured tantric machine.

So I step back for a moment, for one hot, sticky second…

Slide back to reality, sobered and collected,

to tell myself this as I snort with laughter:

I am nothing more than just another fan,

and that God on the stage,

is nothing more than just another man.

Time for a beer and a wee.