Following Freshers’ Week

They are the echo of a scream

In the street outside the window,

A shrieking laughter and a shout

that rattles the panes.

But tonight you're not inside,

You're one of them,

And was that shriek not yours?

Fuzzy headed

How pretty crunches

the mosaic of broken glass

Sparkling in yellow streetlight.

The light changes

The air changes

Hot and humid

Inside is a noise

Blue and flashing that

Moves bodies like the cogs of some gigantesque machine

(broken)

That grind against each other.

Sweat and perfume drip from powdered bodies

Painted plucked and shimmering.

Something sweet slides down the throat

Warms the belly,

What a good idea it seems to dance,

To flash bright like the lights but you pause.

You never mean to but you do.

You float in fear,

for a moment and forget

What it is you are doing here.