Slave to da Riddim

I suddenly stared at her in disbelief, I couldn't tell if this was an illusion or if it was real, I heard no scream, only the sobs of a dead woman.I look at her, her eyes open and red with the dreaded death and my eyes light up, the sobs from her are still going, I was in his ilu

Ilu… illumination? Illustration? Illusion? Ilu, emu? The illustrated emotion? The invigorated Eno? What is happening to me? Is this madness?

"Hey you!" a voice cried. "You better start to move your feet to the rockinest, rock-steady beat of Madness! One! Step! Beyond!" At once, the room was filled with the sound of sassy sax, jumpy guitar & the raucous riddims of 2-tone era ska. Was this music real or only in my mind?

"Dis es no dreem. I am de Reggaeton Tyga, da keeper of de riddim," bellowed a deep, all encompassing voice "and I come to put in ya step a spring, 'til ya can hep but shake ya thing. So put way tha frown, cause it time to get down, to the funky, funky sound of de Tyga!"

I felt the medicine start to kick in as my body began to sway to the rhythm, like tremors preceding an earthquake. Tyga looked at me and said, “Dat de way mon, feel da riddim deep in ya, dat way you wun rememba wut come next!”

I locked eyes with Tyga. It was clear that he was my keeper and I his ward. It was his energies coursing through me. I could no longer control my body. It was like a rocket whose fuse was lit. I was simply the crew. The music crescendoed and I was off, not long for this world.