cheers,

it’s good to hear from you

empty bottle echoing on the table

now wipe off the liquid from my lips

with that hunger of yours

the one that scratches

vibrates in flakes of lights with which

I’m stealing the thief’s heart

I got a picture of your name

just need a frame, baby

here it appears, the frame, the perfect set, shining from afar

stunning mirage of the club – saviour

my alluring oasis

we’re so stupid and brilliant, diamonds

camera flash that captures our youthful souls

waving under the neon lights

like they’re already ghosts – or eternal

but you run after games, they never run at you

flashbacks

we’re getting loose on a monday

yeah, darling, tell ’em

lights on and I thrive in this big bang of sounds

familiar ocean of screams and people breathing in – waiting

waiting for something, always, the next thrill

but darling, look over there,

your next thrill is me

lights are on, but where’s everyone

where’s the perfect second chemical part of my formula

we’re getting loose on a monday

tell ’em

chasing the red neons

that are mirroring my rage – another crucial ingredient

to the perfect formula

I’m about to make a big, big deal

with that one face I know

those hands I told you about

that’ll burn me to the marrow

yes, my beautiful baby looking like a meal

and I’ll treat her like heaven, like that precious little thing she is

preciously warming my ego

that’s the formula’s secret

so just one more sip

of this delicious thrill

for the perfect formula

tinted with the dirty – what do I say, exquisite

craving desire – turning so easily

to weariness

I would swallow the sun if I could

so they would keep looking at me

and never reach out the cruel clarity of the day

in which we all disappear after the lights turn off

how long until we make another perfect formula

now, let’s get real quiet

Maëlle Leggiadro

Categories: PoetryTags: clubs, multiple voices, night out, relationships, slam poem