Flourescent, a poem by Abhinav Aradhi

 

Fluorescent

Every little thing makes you laugh,

And the smile on your face is permanently etched.

Every color on the wall is fluorescent,

Like a nightclub in the city, where chameleons live.

 

She forgets about the past,

As euphoria chokes her veins,

And everything feels like a dream,

And she remembers them all with disdain.

 

There’s a lot of stumbling,

And her feet are going everywhere,

Like an erratic car with no destination.

Sister’s a girl with a glowing disposition.

 

Take another hit,

Really let it filter through your blood,

And let your mind go to the worst place,

But it feels like the godforsaken best.

 

She feels kind of dizzy,

Like the whirl of the ceiling fan in her brother’s room.
She used to stare at it like it was a holy text,

For it entranced her like the chuckling moon.

 

Hey, girlie, want another hit?

She can’t say no, because the word itself has left her thoughts.

Every little sensation is a wildfire, and every little motion is unstable.
She feels she is a burning effigy, of all the hate in the world.

 

There’s got to be some water around here.

She tries to remember her mother’s free flowing dress.

Is it supposed to all be so vivid?

Is she supposed to feel like the world’s animated?

 

She’s clutching at the walls,

But no one at this party cares.

They all own houses with eyes shut,

And they all are big shots, who have sniped the moon and shot the stars.

 

She needs some air,

But the door’s too far away,

And she needs to leave,

But her heels are caterwauling and the sound kills her.

 

She wants her mother,

But her mother’s gone and died,

And the poor little girl in the city of angels

Has succumbed to an overwhelming night.

 

They find her, pipe in hand, lying in the bathroom.

 She’s poignantly beautiful and seventeen.