Down the stairs, 

inside the nightclub, 

grey curls of smoke 

wrap around the bodies in black and light. 

Self reflectively moving to “Bizarre Love Triangle”;

from regular life they willfully disentangle. 

Young like me; people in progress 

redefine what they left outside. 

Here, it’s eye opening, 

but you can’t show surprise. 

Gotta act like you know everybody has an alias. 

The pretty girl in the bathroom pours crimson dye on her hair, 

becoming her other self who’s not so plain. 

Mirrored reflections 

on every wall, 

multiple posts 

for self assessment. 

When it lifts me out of my own quicksand, 

the relief is immense. 

Thirteen is now. 

Bathed in purple and magenta, 

these lights take me to a place I’ve never known. 

Don’t send me home.