Rising Smoke

They dance, forgetting any potential problem they have,
Me at their side, unknown to them but known to me,
And I use the safety of introductions in ignorance as a scapegoat
To get lost in the rising smoke.

They drink, celebrating the birthday of an age old friend,
Me at their side, celebrating in isolated, silent sobriety,
And as they circle the birthday boy in his naked birthday suit
I get lost in the rising smoke.

They shout, demented in their deliberate drunken state,
Me at their side, unaware of being sucked into their oblivion,
And I drown myself in their yelping yells and my standard sub-vocals
To get lost in the rising smoke.

They link, jumping around the birthday boy singing “Happy Birthday!”,
Me at their side, humming the tune in distracted disinterest,
And as they cheer and clap amidst the shenanigans of ropey randomers
I get lost in the rising smoke.

Wondering when again I would get to wield my weapon.
A perfect pen forced painfully into prostration.

(another night out poem where I was more concerned with typing random lines into my phone than having a good night).