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Saturday Night Out

November 10, 2013

Writhing forms, intermingled and muddled

Hoping to be embraced, loved and cuddled

Voices strained against the infernal din

Wanting to perform a victim-less sin.

The beat pounding itself into your skull

Everyone’s bloated, but no one is full.

Stragglers fall by the way-side

Drunken by the incoming tide

With the near approach of morning

few are left to heed its warning

Outside a new day is dawning

Inside my head reposes in yawning.

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From → Poetry

2 Comments
  1. Sounds abut the way I remember it. Good to know some things haven’t changed. šŸ™‚

    Lots of great lines in this… “waiting to preform a victim-less sin” was one that stood out… and “bloated but not full”.

    Thanks.

    • Thank you for taking your time to comment. Yes those lines struck me also, while writing it, I was trying to capture some feelings from last night. I did a poem of this kind years ago that I wrote down on paper but have since lost. I wanted to revisit it. While the night out was still fresh in my mind.

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