Leavers of 2013 exit here drunk delirium no fear showing
grey skies wind blowing hard outside earlier today there was no sense of times
changing of tides raging no real sense of despair Dub Step colliding with Retro
beats and synthetic snares lick the air repeatedly in the common room.
The prospect of a barbeque blooms and then to the Locke
where the real party begins beer whiskey and gin flow briskly the real party
starting quickly since everyone’s fucked and fucked is fun then after the sun
falls down, down drunk into the night where we are soon to follow I’m already
hollowed out over a bin form my G&T and a few Bacardi and Cokes too many the
tonic stings my throat still, there’s a couple of equally fucked students to my
left arguing about whether Dre ever did better than the Chronic on a flaky
bench. I sober up when someone’s tearing up to my right a melancholic mnemonic
that brings it all home.
I know some of these people don’t want to go because what is
there beyond this day and this last call for the academic flailers for the nai-sayers
this afternoon pogo-ing in roll up slacks his gold tie torn twisted in a knot
around his cube shaped head right now trying to bind his gloom with a few more
drinks. Kings today peasants tomorrow for them I feel sunrise comes with shears
to shed hair from their heads the future comes with dissatisfaction for a withering
wedding bed it brings endocet it brings debts and steals the wet from your
water on a dry summer day straining against youth-less skin clotted with age
with no sage like Wismon imbedded in those wrinkles you dreaded.
Or maybe it will be good maybe the fears that arrived tonight
are misplaced who’s to say that in 20 years I won’t look around and see a year
of smiling faces gleams in their eyes from the shirrmering victories of making
dreams realised.
“I want to be a scientist”
“an accountant”
“a singer”
“an actor”
“an astronaut”
“I want to see Venice”
“I want a mansion with a terrace in the countryside”
“I’m going to drink I’m going to fuck my days away with a
guitar in my hand and a mic in my face”
“I’m going to let my luck lead the way and see how that goes”
These dreams and wants gracing the air tonight are like
streamers and banners multi-coloured never ending bending but not breaking in
the sternness of the bleakest breeze an icy veneer stalking the Locke and the
party and the sky. Who’s to say what we want won’t be? Who’s to say we won’t
bring fate to its knees and get it to let us do as we please?
I don’t hear anyone, even after the celebrations are over and
we stumble slightly humbled by the gallons of booze consumed I don’t even hear
a mumble of doubt in the rising sun marking the hangovers overcoming us all.
They’ll still be talking about us to 6th formers
in that hardwood hall in years to come do not mark me words but remember that
you have seen then and let them leave traces in your mind.
We are dismissed and loosed onto mankind, at last.
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