I sat, ribs pressed to the counter edge
"Another round!" Around and around
Cigarette tucked in the corner crease of my mouth, dangling
And I am a fat trip hop album model
Too sad to not be beautiful.
And I watched the unfurling silhouettes as I expelled lungfulls of dust and ether.
I saw the reflection of my own eyes in my glasses lens.
Look too close and you dont see a thing, but oh will you feel it.
Talons of chair legs wrapped round my ankles, around and around, I am going nowhere.
I paid the cover charge, I dressed the part, and now I'm waiting for the music to start.
To tell me everything that I already know.
I'm not here for a lesson, I'm here for the show.
The opera of my pitfalls smashed firm against my face. God, how I have loved this place.
How it let me split open, to seep out of myself and take a look around, and around.
And perhaps I did learn new words, new pages to flip through, new lines that ran circles in my head, around.
Rupi kaur like a pick in my brain.
"I was a museum of art, but you had your eyes shut"
But me too. Me too.
I find myself longing for the venue, the people, the feeling.
That past part of me that just wanted to stay broken. To pick the scab for a few new phrases to turn.
But it's not my turn, and I've lost my ticket.
My chest no longer pushes ghosts into the room.
And I'm not emptying glass vials of torment down my throat.
©ninabruja
N