I see ethanol corpses complaining
To guards delaying an artificially good time.
Techno turntables bump the bar.
Drowning the sound of my heartbeat.
I don’t feel their eyes upon me;
The drunkards’ leering, hungry
For sex on the dance floor,
Tasting each other’s humidity.
I have too many questions about—
Well, vulgar obsession—about being of age,
Imbibing twisted mermaid lemonade
To kill the guilt with pleasure.
I have nowhere to look and fully
Observe, there’s no point to anything.
It’s commingled tears and sweat
Staining my prudish face.
Amethyst fluorescent bulbs
Draw—my eyes—no booze to
Lose sight of these numb losers.
My dollar bills’ faces grew long.
I have no choice but to let my soul free;
To move my stiff, reluctant body
Like a multicolored goblin,
Bragging about my sobriety.
