A bunch of twenty-somethings
clinging to youth,
clinging to the long nights,
late nights,
early mornings,
sunsets and sunrises,
lines of blow,
joints rotating round the room,
blocked noses,
key bumps,
one more line,
goodbyes and new friendships,
the nights spent drinking cups of tea,
sipping it while it’s hot,
burning our throats,
burning, burning, burning,
burning minds,
burning blunts,
burning dreams,
burning regrets,
burning time,
burning candles,
forever burning in eternity,
the infinite and ancient stars burning
as bright as our souls.

We cling to the words in our hearts
and the silence in our mouths,
to the demons we fled now lurking in the shadows,
to the regrets,
the depression,
second chances,
to the bad choices,
to one more line and one more empty bag,
one more choice
between sanity and truth.
Embracing our truths
and the truths of those around us.
The truth of addiction,
the truth of madness,
the truth of imperfection,
the truth of fear,
the truth of freedom,
the truth of pleasure,
the truth of mortal beauty.

We cling to the past,
to flaccid ambitions,
and to those broken dreams
we remember as perfect,
to the dark sluts
who brightened our hearts
and enlightened our minds,
to the manic fiends
who’s vices justified our own,
to the fallen angels
the world disregarded and forgot
but in whom we found undiscovered beauty,
and to the unlovable hedonists
who’d given up hope
but we learnt to love.
We cling to one more line,
and one more late night,
one more excuse,
one more memory to be forgotten,
one more reason to live.

A bunch of twenty-somethings,
clinging to withering youth,
to blossoming life,
to the present.



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