Will tonight be better or will tonight be the same?

Will we explore wild unknown youth,
orchestrate dramatic brushes on the dance floor,
or plumb depressing depths of the pick-up girls’ eye?

Will we rock our heads and forget our senses,
in five large vodkas and the incessant rap of the snare drum;
killing, killing, killing, hurt
living, living, living, love
getting, getting, getting, numb.

Always the last to leave the place,
empty bottles and disarrayed chairs;
those supposedly drunk
have gone…sane.

Why are we left behind?
To wonder.was tonight better or was it the same?

(Don’t reflect or you’ll die)