SLC this, Punk

i’m sitting here
…void…
my tainted mind,
wearing a hot pink leotard,
dances on Pointe through
acid-trip goodness

i’m reaching for a glass…
each crystal clear drop
turns to red wine blood
as it slides down my throat
drowning me, pulling me under,
and filling me until all i taste
is intoxication

i stand, no i’ve been standing,
and try to walk
only to trip noisily
over each wasted body
my mind races
i try, in vain, to follow
instead i find the strands of
medicated sleep

i wake
my head pounds
as does my heart
both knowing that each party
draws closer to the last
people drop around me sickly
like flies, they fall

i know
my tribe, clique, life hasn’t long
no one is immune
one day i will have forgotten
everything
but today i will cling to
every splitting piece of my
eggshell existence