Party Animals

1

Last night was party night. This morning feels great. Maybe it's because we're all young and inspired. That's how it rolls. After a long evening of Ring of Fire, smashing cans of beer on our heads and having several visits from the residential co-ordinator, Iggy, the party moved to Flat 260, that's where the party animals and I reside. Kris started playing his guitar and suddenly, there were all these party people crowded into his tiny room, sat on the floor, crammed against the walls. He lost it, playing so strong and singing in his great accent. That was the first infinite moment, right there. It could have been the end of everything, a room of complete strangers, because really that's what we are and were. Maybe not knowing made us closer, physically and through the love coming out from Kris. I have no doubt that's what it was, even if he was pissed. It all means something and everything. Of course, it came to an abrupt end when we were hauled out to chain smoke, though that made us all closer again. Nicotine and alcohol brings out really great shit from people.

Morning after the night before, life goes on in misty mornings, black coffees and Kris singing along to Bob Dylan or something in his room.

Today, being here, hearing him across the hall and the others making breakfast or whatever. Makes me feel alive.

2

Back to Flat 260. Stumble through dirty fountains and urban underpasses. Party animals, we come out at night.

In the dark, meaning over anything. Under the influence spill out your heart and in the morning we'll pretend nothing was ever said. Heads on laps, legs, resting, pacing, that's our hearts beating. Faster, harder, stronger. Lying out listening to love, the guitar and blood rushing around our

Slow down your breathing. Maybe we could make it last

our strange love

strangers

it feels like home for now.

Black marks, lie ins, every head going round the bend with thoughts of the night before. Takeaway, picnic in the corridor, sat outside the boundaries and shared, most importantly, shared.

Drink up and out. Shots out of shot, shooting up on red bull and vodka, wavering by the bar, perched on stools around a table roost – out to the dance floor.

Watch us shake it, beats. Jeans, fishnets, heels, horns. Saints or Sinners. White light, red heat. Feel the beat. Dance like there's no tomorrow, no one else out there but this jagged circle, no home just time and space and people. We are playing the world's game, well.

3

What am I to you?

More significant than who I am or what I feel like, everything real means nothing if you are held in no one's high regard. My heart runs on love of others. I am independent output, dependent input, without you I am nothing. Your words can make me no one or the only one. Assumptions and high hope fuel the distinction between living and being alive. Hurt me. At least then I know I am worth your spite. Lying awake, asleep. The highest intimacy requires time, there's no rush, lie back, hold tight and just be. Be with me. Everything amounts to how your heart beats. My indifferent love – tonight I crave proximity. Break me apart, use any part as you wish. Tell me and touch me. To have your attention drives me faster. Who am I, to you? Decide my fate weighed out in attributes and appreciation. What the fuck am I to you? That leaves me nowhere, conquest. Alone, invincible. Give me affection and I am vulnerable. Show me what I am to you, or I might never believe it.