She slides through bodies slick with sweat
A beer in hand and a shot glass waiting on the bar,
She knows the burning drink will curdle with the pills
She swallowed in the hope to drown the week,
The nagging boss and the dishes still piled high at home.
The bass notes shake her bones, her heart
And as the drugs take hold, the lights flash bright,
Lasers scan her body, making her feel guilty,
Ashamed of what she’s plied her body with
And in the toilets, splashing water on her face
She longs for bed, to hide that face
Staring out from a neon mirror, mascara running
Lipstick smeared and a girl vomiting in the filthy stall.
No, she says. It’s time for home, to take off heels
And find some comfort in a better place.
2 thoughts on “the night club night”
You capture that search for release really well here, Rachel. That thump of music, the drinking, the snogging, it’s all used as a sort of anaesthetic, isn’t it? But the problems don’t go away. You’re right; going home and resting is a good start…
That bass if you got close to the speakers, I’d feel like I was leaving my own body.