It's a Bachelor's Night

Holding up by the neck

Of this dark bottle

Under blinking lights,

I felt old,

Like a lifetime wasted upon seconds,

Just about a quarter in pint,

Scrunch my heart,

Like a moth in this maize

Of crowdedness.

Passing revelers and 10

Strangers,

They do not know,

I was fuddled in these flamboyant lights

Of disguise,

They thought I am merrying in the moment,

Rejoicing in the delight of memories:

Girls, boozes and hard-beat music.

Then a luminous square screen suddenly appeared,

Before my drowsy thoughts,

Capturing the picture in half-cut faces, 20

With my pretentious soberness,

I promised another perfect vision,

Now a full frame face,

In glimmer back.

I took another slug.

The audience trying to prove

My sober by passing ignorance,

I should sing or shout in shock

To get their attention.

But my rage drunken by another slug, 30

If I collapse tonight,

The world would be beyond

My memory,

And ends up in the five foot

Or in the alley of afro-inspired sex.

The biggest happiness is sadness,

The altruism held in my pride,

As the passing revelers would have noticed,

My already bleary red-shot eyes,

My dry tears could use to pollinate the flowers, 40

Or my throw-up back to the nature of vegetation ferment.

Have you ever seen the happiest man?

When he is drunk with his slugs,

Who has tears to tell his side of story,

To grow beautiful spring later.

Lining the sky with his fingers,

Chanting slurs,

Half-awake with a mouth

Drenched in bitterness;

Memories. 50

The marriage toast will never

Cross my mind,

What’s more my heavy intoxication;

I see myself blurry,

My eyes are dried

Soaked in the whiskey,

My sobriety in elsewhere

I do not belong.

The matrimony is not

Mine. 60

The happiness is sadness

Wrought heavy in the quench

In between slugs of appetence,

To quench down the future

Surrealism,

And mock up the past

Abstractism,

Expressed in the very present

Of a splinter consciousness.

“I am awake, 70

Yes I am conscious,

Yes; sober am I,

No, this is not you,

Where’s my bloody glass?

Why this whiskey is water?

Where’s the bottle?

Why the floor is reeling?
Why the lights flaring at me?

Why my mind is locked

Blank? Blind? Conked? 80

Fucked up?

Suck it out!

Suck it out!”

I dropped the laden glass,

Of water

Broken, spatter,

On my chequered shirt,

Spikes of shards

On the reeling floor,

Crinkling, 90

Drowned in deafening discotheque,

The disaster went off,

Into the forgotten lyrics.

The locum bore

A few slickers,

Discharging myself,

Acknowledging a few more nibble

Of infatuation to illusory,

Future of the past,

Realism to unrealism, 100

In this meaningful realm,

Of repentance in inebriation.

Note:-Drunken Notes from HQnine-midnight 9th August 2009