HELPING HAND

Grasping hold of the glass I watched the night clock off,

Draining the paper held within my fingers,

Slipping down my throat till the tide had long gone out,

Feet tapping along with the throbbing of the night.

I sit there observing that figure of male perfection,

Happy and cheerful, dancing this memorable night away,

And I stand, lowering my glass, stumble my way towards him, 

Where he notices me finally, I smile, he smiles too.

I sway with him, and the others, always looking into the depths,

Losing my mind, feeling lighter than the balloons that hang freely,

And I think an uncontrollable thought, to reach out to him,

But as the moment passes, I swig another mouthful, and everything fades into nothingness