A Stranger Sanctuary.
No pen. No paper. You make do with what you can. If I try looking far back enough, it all gets blurry. Like sitting to close to a television screen on static. I remember how it smelled though - like vodka, sweat, and burberry. & No one else took the time to care. You were just another face. Another fuck. Strangers became a sanctuary. Whose house is this? Whose clothes are these? A different face to carry you to the car every night. & It all seemed fine. I sold my soul for all of it. Only to be lucky if they remembered my name after it all. There was a wreckless beauty in everything. Something that scared you to a split second of feeling safe. The boys all dressed so well. The girls knew how to keep a secret - you could see the deceit in their entire being. Like it was an inside joke and it was all on you. I only found comfort and acceptance by putting all my worries into another bottle. They collect eventually, all floating on suspicion. Individuality was not accepted and intelligence was ridiculed. We all wanted the same thing. & Most the time you could find it across the dancefloor or in the bathroom. Most of them move on eventually. The price you'll pay and the empty space is a constant reminder. Those well dressed boys and lying cunts will be back eventually. This place holds a gravitational force that will always have you in its orbit. I never wanted any of it to last forever. There is no fairy tale ending in a love that was found nine drinks later in the bottom of the glass. The morning after scene and the faces may have changed - but its all still the same. Its my choice whether I make it past Go.