Club Scene

I'm not much of a 'clubber' as this poem may indicate

What is this place?

Have you seen it before?

      Didn’t we just leave this place?

Weren’t we just in a place

with “bangin’” music, where pale skinned and dark eyed people danced to a beat they could not follow, to words they could not understand, and with people who were as likely to mug us as dance with us?

Why are we here?

Is it to drink the money we work hard to get, only to piss it away to the next morning?

Do you welcome oblivion?

Are we here to chat up the questionable girls                    and fight

  questionable men?

Can you hear the music above the NOISE?

Can you smell the perfume of the girl you're with above the stench of

booze

and

vomit

on the floor.

 

I do not belong here. I am drowning in a sea of

verbal bullshit.

Everyone talks about nothing and nobodies.

They don’t hear each other, how can they? They can’t even hear themselves!

 

You can tell can’t you?

You can tell that I do not belong here?

 

Of course you do, I

      stand

             here

                   with

                        my

                           drink

                                 of

                                   future

      piss, laughing at the right moments,

 

never quite able to open my mouth and talk,                                  always on the outside

looking in.

I do not join talks; I observe them and try to blend in.

 

Why did you ask me to come?

Do you enjoy watching me squirm with discomfort?

Do you think I deserve this, for the crime of not fitting in?

For being quiet?

Or is it even simpler than that?

Do you like me there to make yourself look good?

Do you enjoy watching my futile attempt to talk to girls?

 

How you laugh when my courage mounts enough to dance with a girl and witness the disgusted look on her face.

You can see how much I hate these places.

The NOISE, the smell, the drink. Too many people, only one me.

.

.

.

I feel so lonely.

Reviews

[skwisgar]

i could write sucha good response to this. about hwy all those bad things about drinking are awsome for me :)

except the end. the end is a bit sad and ive been there :( when i use to go out on the r n b scene with cat and it was just like her grinding on guys and chatting to her mates while i stood there paranoid someone would realise i was 17 or being groped by an asian guy.

[Natasha Ashway]

/ You can tell that I do not belong here? Of course you do, I stand here with my drink of future piss, / laughing at the right moments, never quite able to open my mouth and talk, always on the outside looking in. /

I've felt like this; exactly like this, although I don't discredit club scenes completely - too many good memories to be honest. I used to be dragged along, I hated it, and then met fun people. Then I... started dragging people too!!! Yet I believe ultimately people are allowed to like different things, anyway, it is supposed to be a free world.
Sometimes, there's also an irony - the person dragging you out there actually feels exactly like this; i.e. 'so lonely', as outrageous as that is to imagine, and they want you there because, even more outrageous - they enjoy your company. They like your witty, disdainful remarks, they like the animated expressions that come to your face, your reactions to parts of their world. Perhaps you are not even as lonely as them and your grudgingly bestowed 'take' makes the experience count.
And maybe this honesty from you will push them to 'fess up as well.

There is a quote 'The noise of the world is made up of silences' I read in a Theodore Zeldin book.
Perhaps this could be more true than you think.

p.s. Don't be lonely!

Thanks for sharing.