Party to it

 

Slump on the stairs with me

Lie here and talk of all we hate

As I do my best James Dean

Red label Thunderbird sedated

Eyes squint, upturned collar

Desires and designs on you

As your mates dance on the sofa

Because your folks are in Corfu

 

Bass kicks like a pissed-up ninja

And something in the kitchen crashes

You say something vodka-breathed,

Forceful, though your false eyelashes

Speak of recent tears

Your hands gesture like you couldn’t care

Betrayal in your sneer

A whiff of vomit in your hair

 

And words that should embarrass

Hang between beats as the music breaks

This night has turned to trespass

Where noise and booze drowns out the ache

Which makes me shake for you

I’ve felt like this since I was ten

Could you feel the same way too?

Will we ever be this alive again?

 

We turn and run upstairs

Past a crying girl, a carpet stain

And what was once a wicker chair

To your parents’ bathroom

Where you slide the chain across the door

Then fall with me into the bath

Away from the party’s roar

We lie and laugh and laugh and laugh.