The Glass of Nothing

Lines crease across your face and your
Arm is tight around a stranger yet your
Faces are perfect moulds of one another
Lips upturned and blindingly white teeth
Hair disarrayed and weaving together at
The edges the corners are torn and some
Burnt in a blackened soot colour, evidence
Of history, now we have digital time stamps

The background is blurry like it doesn’t even
Matter but there are more bodies in the shadows
Arms entangled, I can practically hear the laughter
Peeling from the image and ring tauntingly around
My head, still sore from overthinking everyday life
The effort of simply moving, which comes so easily
To your kind, I can see the proof in the stilled frame
Of clear dad dancing in the upper right hand side

Young and wild and free, that what I can see in the
Pix-elated forms that grace my presence and I can’t
Help but be jealous of the common entities you have
Found, the matching colours of the floor length dresses
The drinks in hand, making a mess of the classic nature
You try to elude to, yet no one cares enough to raise the
Question to this documentation of this victorious moment
In time when everyone was falling about, drunk on happiness

I can taste the liquor in the air and I knock on the screen
Sending numbers and digits spiraling into the air in this
Unexpected motion, I can hear the music in my head and
Frustration, I am trapped in this bed unable to participate
When all I really want to do is tear apart the seams of the
Photograph, make it disappear, or better yet, open at the
Core and let me climb over the frame and join the masses
Of strangers while someone hands me happiness in a glass

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