The Search

This is a vulgar place.

The house pulses outward by the buzz of the booming bass.

The door's left flung open,

it remains a vortex to all,

Sucking you in from the wild night air to the party.

Too many masked faces,

make-up caked on and creaking under every peacock painted eyelid.

Too many saggy pairs of jeans, sideways snapbacks, and drooly boys.

Too many discarded shoes,

a mountain range of stilettos and sneakers all stuck up on top of each other.

The crunch of chips and scattered popcorn,

creates a crusty layer of sludge beneath your toes.

Eyes squint to see,

the lamps glow dimly,

the air is just a shade off from black,

blurred movements illuminated by each flash of the strobe.

There's only dregs of oxygen remaining in the room,

each throat grasps on to life through small short breaths.

But still they pulse on.

Just a mess of bodies.

Tormented. Twisting, twirling, trying to twerk,

their movements forced by the beat of the drums,

addicted to the music they must move.

Fresh air died hours ago,

only a foul stench remains,

the lingering scent of each smoked joint infuses in your lungs,

you recognize it,

from when you were a child,

it was the smell of dad's breath when he came home from the bar.

It's mixed with the salty tang of sweat, seeping out of every pore.

There's bloodshot eyes,

black stains in and under every fingernail,

puffy nostrils and runny noses.

Bodies hook together like marionette puppets with their strings done up in knots,

an entanglement of legs, arms, and hands, intertwined on every germy sofa.

This is a vulgar place,

a disheartening one.

Each soul searching for another.

Trying to find connection.

Trying to fight off the certainty of being alone.

---

I wrote this poem Sophomore year of High School. I had never been to a party. Three years into college, I would say that this holds true to some of the reality I've now experienced. Most everyone I see who goes out wants to be cool, wants to be noticed, wants to find someone to love, or wants an unforgettably fun night. Sometimes I just go watch them. And wonder if I fit into one of those categories. I wonder why I'm there. And who's watching me. And then I leave, feeling like none of my questions are answered, and nobody there really got what they wanted.