By Sammy Ginsberg
Last night vodka made mountains out of molehills
As I wept into my glasses
Holding my Italians thinking
Why is life all about sex?
As they made out on the dance floor,
She close friend of three years
And Costa treats and carbonara
And he, beautiful Auden boy
Who was going to save me
from the voices in my head, in my head,
As we kissed over poetry and wine.
I saw and world turned red
Let emotions wet me as the
Ground vibrated reggae dub dreams.
And I thought, why is it all about now?
Holding poetry, poetry who has never let me down, yet.
"At least you have poetry", Vera said
At least that.
Reminding myself of the big picture
And my belief in friendship and poetry and truth
When all I felt was,
What’s the point?
What’s the point in all this
When people will throw it away
for a fuck,
A fuck now that means nothing
While I keep believing in
A fuck then that will mean everything
As I wept knowing
She will feel bad about it tomorrow
And he will feel awkward about it tomorrow
And I already feel numb.
How many times can you be beat in the chest
Before you are blessed.
.
Except it wasn’t the end.
As the lights went up
And we rolled away
To after parties and
Cuddled on couches,
And laughed, let go.
Released by the stream
purity of tears,
Sat surrounded by
The dirty, dirty hipsters
That are my friends,
My community.
.
And lost myself in
the ecstasy of nothing.
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