Tonight's Poet Corner: Panic Attack! At The Disco
Panic Attack! At The Disco by Belinda Roddie I've been friendly to the point that the nausea is stronger than the rum in my drink, and louder than the shitty music that the DJ pounds into everyone's inebriated egos. The "small talk" meter in my brain is so full that the red mercury is leaking out of my cerebral cortex and into the coiled stairwells of my spine, poisoning me, paralyzing me. Shallow, shallow words. Gossip, gossip, gossip. She said and did you know and wait until he and so what do you think I don't want to think motherfucker I want to leave. I want to steal a fucking taxi off the corner of madness and sanctuary and drive it across the bridge before it falls down, my fair lady. I want to order two pizzas from the safety of my rundown apartment and eat so much that when I sweat, I smell like pepperoni and garlic. I want to leave behind all the bars and cigarette corners and karaoke breaks where Tone-Deaf Tom makes sure everyone