party part of me

1.

Dirty music was playing
somewhere among the walls

and my friends were sitting
around a campfire
wearing plastic masks.

Each time they downed
a glass of booze
they would melt away a little.

Funny thing is,
next to the firewood
sponging like mind play,
the masks sat in a box.

Someone called my name
and they told me
to put one on.


2.

The nightfall
came clear as day

and somehow
the idea that the sun was dead
was a riot.

Bats fluttered
and hung above
the smoke that came
from the woods

where stones sat
burning away the minds of slugs
with cigarettes.

I laughed at them
until the bats came
and levitated
above my own
head of dying thoughts.

Night became night now,
like it was supposed to.

Nothing ever seemed to go
my way.


3.

The sun spat shame
under my pillow
and I awoke with sleep
and misunderstood regret
in my eyes.

Last night was black,
and I couldn’t peel
the colour away.

My friends ran in the door,
with blisters and spots of plastic
that wouldn’t heal.

But they laughed at
the parts of my mask
they each held in their hand.


4.

And I ran from these walls,
made of beer bottles
and murdered doobies,
just like a tent;

lost students
escape for a night
in a fantasy forest

but after it rains
the atmosphere
sinks in.

They go back home
to their parents,
who are a ceiling;

and guilt sits
unwashed in the sink.