.,~.*from now on I am staying in with friends drinking, painting, writing, going out to camp or play pool*.~,.time wasted but at least I got a poem out of it...
there is silence
sunday morning hangover in between my ears
lies numb dull fuzz like a dying wasp
the broken memories from last night slowly
creep across the back of my eyelids as they flit
shut and then move into the haze of my head.
nowhere land. slow land. cold hands
the window is open but I can't bring myself
to crawl off the couch and bang it shut
the sheer thought of that hard soulless crack
runs down my back and I curl into myself more
I don't know why I go out; get drunk:
dance in places full of sweaty boring people
talking and smoking and making each other
more boring, watered down compliments
bumping shoving loosing your friends
seeing the boy you fancy kiss another girl
more drink maybe a kiss maybe a finger
the toilet attendent not letting you and your
friend piss in the same cubical so you piss alone
never been so lonely.
x x x