deepundergroundpoetry.com
E s c a p a l o g y
I try not to think of the fact that
she-chose-others-before-me
the exception I never could be
that one damn chance where
the loop could have ended
I watch the drinks being handed
So much for the annual membership fee
My eyes burn and twitch nevertheless
I start a fresh attempt to form
a smile that could pass as real
Nazareth's Love Hurts plays slowly
somewhere inside and I sigh audibly
as a tight bunch of strangers
close in-bright-high-inspired
feigning interest-as genuine
as my smile for the last eternity
they are nothing but claustrophobia
So much for the social networking spree
I try not to think of the fact
that she consistently evaded me
by citing infantile reasons which
were nothing less than cruel
the sudden resurgence of love
followed by days of indifference
So much for Buddhist philosophy
They look a mix of moronic and robotic-
these-young-guns-who-are-the-future
They have tall wine glasses
Together they smell faintly like cupboards
or may be the acid is wearing off
Well it could be the transition
between my frequent micronaps after
three straight days without sleep
I bet they are asking me questions
and all I imagine to have done is nod
I could catch a train with my tongue
There are a few girls here-may be ten
gowns-skirts-svelte-curls-frills-beamish
I get a jolt and the girl in front of me
smiles with her hand on my shoulder
She asks if I am alright-her glassy eyes
glinting-like an overfull dewdrop
I let her help me sit down-s l o w l y
She tells me it's okay and I start to
really wonder what she could have meant
So much for incessant self-loathing
With eyes closed my field of vision becomes
a rapid Gasper Noe sickening flash carnival
I push myself and before I reach the door
the earthworm of my esophagus expels it all
in reverse peristalsis-bitter-thick-warm-stale
The entire party stops and watches me in my
profound moment of despair-isolation-madness
They tch-tch and talk under their breaths
A few sprint to my help and whispers permeate
the comfortable silence all around me-us-them
The persistent visions of my love fade away
as the lime light crawls its way towards me-
the scorned lover-the wounded tiger-the thing
So much for telling myself 'Mission Accomplished.'
photograph courtsey-Mehmet Turgut
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