You are a party to me.
The taste of cheap wine, strong and dry in my mouth
the sound of music, loud and catchy
a couple in the corner, tongues waggling and
their hands grasping at each other, furiously
You are the drugs the raver hands around
the ecstasy on my tongue, exploding
colours melding together, lights and neons,
You are the splash of sick in the toilet water
the sobs of the drunkest girl, retching alone.
Blood on the bedsheets from the wrong first time
come on the bedsheets where the guy got lucky
in another room.
You are the crash of the door and the sound of sirens
the footsteps of us running away
across the wet lawn and over the fence.
You are a party gone bad
like always, I suppose.