absentee ballot

it's not really a poem but i couldn't think of how else to classify it so here we are! semi-stream-of-consciouness, semi-self-indulgent... yay?

 absentee ballot

 

I had the weirdest night last night. Sitting in a faux Irish pub with a friend, next to a roaring fire, drinking red wine and trying to make ourselves heard over the crowd of (genuine) Irish football fans at the next table. Discussing… dead ends and the perils of being young and, contrary to popular belief, knowing absolutely nothing and being painfully aware of this. Daunted by the prospect of the world in general, drank too much to try and forget, made plans that in the dingy pub sounded exciting and totally doable but now, the morning after, are slightly ridiculous and highly unlikely to happen.

Escapism, teen angst, etc, etc, all of the above. We tried so hard to be worldly and rational and in the end we drank too much and rolled forth, out into the uncharacteristically balmy evening, waiting for the hazy dawn, waiting for the crisp morning, waiting for confirmation that yes, despite our grand, giddy dreams of  breakfast tea on the Thames, of casbahs and cowboy boots, the absinthe and the medieval castles, we’d probably end up staying exactly where we f*****g were.

Reviews

[Emily B]

this is good stuff

[UponATyme]

I absolutely love it! I love the way you strung your words together, to make big run on sentences. Not exactly grammatically correct, but that's okay because it created a rhythm in the prose that dragged the reader right through to the end. It's a common theme, but you've expressed it in such a fresh new way that no one would consider this cliche. Love the imagery. All in all, terrific job. Keep it up!