your hand pulled me through the tear gas. your mask was my beacon through the screaming destruction of love's riot. the wonderful mass of decaying humility. coalescing into a fist to smash the cities of the faceless. to make the lips tremble at the sound of the people beating trash can lids against their resolve. the cancerous cell in the veins of your streets. the freedom of the riot exploding against every wall, and always your mask is the beacon in the juggernaut scream of love's riot. the music is the sound of our heads exploding, of excellence embodied as one mass of organisms working in concert, a virus unified against the control systems, working in concert to shout down the naysayers of their viral freedoms. to tear every kiss out of their mouth and eyes. to rip them up and throw them to memory. this is our riot, our fabulous mob mentality. this is how we demand recognition from each other.
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