Don’t Electrocute This Youth!

Twelve o’clock
is the curfew
that I’m told
by my parents.
But I refuse to
listen to their
rules tonight.

They don’t
know about
my tricky
habits.

Or when I
go to slither
through the
windowsills,
evading good
girl standards.

They probably
aren’t aware
of my fake ID
either.

Still, I don’t
care what they
say, until my
mistakes hit
me later and
I’m forced to
make amends
with regret.

Midnight is
the time where
day lights flicker
out and club
bulbs flash in.

My friends and I
spend hours
forgetting our
responsibilities,
as we party the
night away. We
fill our red solo
cups at the brink;
flush avenging
vexations down
swimming pool
slides.

Nu disco and
experimental
funk muse
quenches our
thirst for
celebration.

We light a match,
set an impulse to
shock the nation.
My newly streaked
highlights wreck
mayhem, swishing
its vivid destructive
dye in mid-air.

Everyone shouts:
“Don’t electrocute this youth!”
Because we have a matter
of seconds to prove
we can handle darkness
—the ultimate fuse.

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2 thoughts on “Don’t Electrocute This Youth!

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