APAD #4: A Worthwhile Study (We Will Dance Yet)

I say I don't believe in it
but the drinking games undeniably
build up a certain momentum after midnight,
when all you know is that you don't want to know
who you are anymore
(not that you want to lose your identity
to be clear, you just want to forget certain parts -
forget that you are timid and quiet and afraid of sex.
You want to (just for the night) forget about that and accidentally fill the space
with something confident)

We
wake up on spare matressess,
alone.
As always.
Staring at white ceilings
with microscopic black holes all over - this
is the night sky in reverse,
which makes sense because right now your head feels like it's just been turned the right way around for the first time in twelve hours.

Lessons learned: I will always catch up with myself.
I can throw my arms around anyone
but whiskey never made me something holy
and gin never made me someone lustable.
(Maybe someone laughable)
I love and I love and I love
and all I ever get is drunk -

I laugh quietly to nobody in particular
(the girls on the stairs?)
and say "Well,
you can't grope a memory"

I'm sorry but I'm not sad.
Turn down the bright lights and we can try again;
I am learning (slowly) to feel good,
I think it's a wortwhile study.

So, cue the strings -
I will swoon at the streams of moonlight that punch through the window
and dance in your kitchen
(barefoot, of course, because some cliches
... well, they work, don't they?)
And be happy and fuzzy and floaty and light and...

Maybe I should save this for another night.
The point is:
You may think I'm a serial miserablist
But I do alright, so -
Give me a hug and another shot
And I will be well on my way to enjoying this.

I do not regret my straight-edge years
But I am glad they are over.

[End
Another poem about girls and drinking. The "something holy" line is a reference to the incredible song "Patriot's Heart" by American Music Club. "You can't grope a memory" is an obvious nod to "You can't put your arm around a memory". The rest is all me (though I worry I may have subconciously stolen the "all I ever get is drunk" bit?).
Written whilst listening to: The National (Ada, Gospel, Karen and All the Wine)
Edited whilst listening to: Explosions in the Sky (The Rescue EP), Death Cab for Cutie (their cover of Superchunk's Kicked In)]