Blind

Blind, blind, blind. Fishface, my old bugger, eye closed, the experimental blindness, I lead him down among this sweating mass of separate bodies. Bodies, oh delectable bodies. Turd and shit. Hangs swaying in the battering suffocation music. Beating, pounding of drums. Confusion, my old bugger. See I lead you now down into complete confusion. I lead you. These thoughts, seen running like desperate flickering through the mind of his pupil. So little in control yet so concentrated upon control. Not control. No. Salvation. His own. And Fishface, old bugger, where fits he in this salvation? Mocks himself immobile. The sole centre to hold in this affair. I Fishface confess my sins, desires in confusion.