I made the mistake (of going to a party) (Draft).

I made the mistake
–A language which dowses me

Disowns me
but if she were disrobed
from my exiled python
I could not be happy then;

I had slept in again
after they drank beer belonging

to their fathers, only had seen
them in chiffon, touching each other
discarding haar fleece; I only fake-married
a woman I had met once before

I let her keep the banns,
told her I didn’t care what she did with it.
She had eyes that hid a body, perhaps,

made me dizzy before we abandoned each other.

The rest of the night
I talked with my mother,
becoming both an adulterer
and mesquite whore for being anywhere else
except where I was.

I imagined the loss
of the oleanders; both murderer and adulterer,
the woman I had married, perhaps the same
as when we first met.

There was nowhere
crawling the panics and
the ruins of Villa romaine

except for people asking where to get beer and pot
except for me hiding downstairs
insulated from the conflux.

I was never good at parties.

I thought of the woman walking with a cane,
who had a death wish for the Les-Casquets
in her casket; but she was between insane,
wasn’t she? She accepted, with it her cruelty,
and with it, her démence.

And I thought of this mysterious woman
only have existed, gone as a ghost.

© 2022 Pseudopsychosis All Rights Reserved.

Partially truth, partially fiction.

14 thoughts on “I made the mistake (of going to a party) (Draft).”

  1. I am so glad to see your poem for this! This has the feel of a smoky dream–“haar” is the perfect word for it. It has something of the impairment of alcohol and also of desire and dementia. None of it is strictly clear, like a loaded scene seen through cheesecloth in the late hours of some strange party or its aftermath. And yet, it is still as sharp as a cheese grater drawn across the skin, despite its shroomy strangeness. Moreover, the French bits near the end give it an exotic seasoning that I like. After all, everything sounds better en francais, even madness.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so, so much. Everything you said, I’m holding near my heart, it moved me and I’m so happy to read your thoughts on this piece. I guess I will reveal my inspirations after all, since you did make the prompt. 😉

      It was, at the least, a very strange party I went to around late March. Casino-themed and oriented so that you would come in well-dressed, bellies empty, and all the same, you would feel the overwhelming vibrations–as we neared toward the end of the evening–of music. I walked in, feeling a tad underdressed and unescorted as others had brought their friends and significant others. I had neither 😂. I came twenty or so minutes early on the campus, and seeing as they were still setting up, I sat in the lobby chairs. It wasn’t even ten minutes until I was talking with an acquaintance, and she expressed that before she leaves college, she wanted to have a mock wedding at the fake Elvis chapel. I was on board, knowing that I am not blessed with the social graces as to actually find someone else to fake marry me later, and when she told me her boyfriend would be upset about it, I walked her to the altar.

      And alas, me and my fake bride wed. We got pictures taken from our phones–even got fake rings. We signed the (also fake) marriage certificate and I let her keep it, since I know I would have probably just kept in a box or thrown it out when I got home (I am not too sentimental, no, not in this moment as I had barely known her to begin with). It was fun overall until she politely encouraged me to leave. I have been called a wallflower of sorts before (rude, but true) so that is what I did at the party for the rest of the night. I ate the treats they had in one of the ballrooms, even bought some goodies at the shop, and lingered the rest of the night between crowds and green stroboscopes. At one point, I witnessed a female throuple marry and I could not contain my amusement, as I had a feeling the founder of the college would be rolling in her grave. When it got too much and I became more distressed at being around people, I hid downstairs inside a bathroom where I could still hear music vibrations.

      The rest of the night was boring–par for the course when you are a wombat in human form. I brushed by possibly drunk idiots and their lovers, who I imagine must have at least started doing something frisky as it neared midnight; and everyone knows nothing good happens at midnight, so I left before I could find out for sure. I even went on YikYak where people in the local vicinity were looking for someone to supply them with alcohol, and days later, cocaine. Some elements of the poem, as you see, are combined from later experiences but for the most part, it is rooted in this party. I wanted to make it seem like a dissociative memory as well, and I still feel mixed about how I feel about the experience and how I wrapped up this poem overall. The final stanza is based on both fiction and reality as I was thinking of a character in Hannibal, and how I also remembered seeing a disabled woman on campus; I envied her confidence and strength.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. sounds like we were at the same party ( i was the oleanders next to fake married woman)

    i really enjoyed this, loved the language, and the way all your images slide slightly out of place, gives it an unreal and real feel all at the same time. very well written,

    Liked by 1 person

    1. We very well may have been, Phillip. Sorry I didn’t notice you! My fake wife took off on me before I decided to leave her too. I went downstairs to hide in the bathroom eventually.

      Thank you so much for the lovely words, I am really happy you enjoyed this piece. I wanted to create disjointed imagery–a disconnected narrative that still reveals elements of something.


  3. Fascinating! I love all the interactions you describe in this poem, whether real or imagined, on this plane or another, despite the fact you’re not good at parties! I love the expression “mesquite whore”, it makes me think of someone who’s a social gadfly but who doesn’t enjoy it. Love this section, it’s so tantalising:

    “I only fake-married
    a woman I had met once before

    I let her keep the banns,
    told her I didn’t care what she did with it.
    She had eyes that hid a body, perhaps,

    made me dizzy before we abandoned each other.”

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ah hahaha, Sunra, I love your commentary! Most of this was real as I explained the backstory in another comment of mine on here (and yes, I am bad at getting back to people). Annoyed social gadfly–I guess that fits me all things considering. 😂 I keep to myself most of the time, but my mind went rampant with internal critiques and cynicism. You also reminded me of this one time a classmate was trying to pick at my brain since I am so quiet (she pointed out a sticker on my laptop that says, “Keep talking, I’m diagnosing you” and admitted that was what she was doing with me more or less), and I always think just how I find myself in these interesting situations in the first place, some of which I had not expected to be thrown in. Either way, it makes for good entertainment. Thank you so, so much. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  4. You are most welcome, Lucy! Happy to share my thoughts with you 🙂 I like your sticker slogan, ha ha! I think all interactions are valuable in a way. As time passes, I realise (cliché alert) how precious it is, and that every person you meet is an exchange or an experience, even if it’s small talk, and you never know what a simple kind word in passing might do for someone. I totally know what you mean about internal critiques, I do that sometimes! I’m learning to rewire myself too these days. And if nothing else, all interactions can be material for writing 🙂 Anyway, I’ll stop going on as I’m no longer sure what my actual point is, lol! Wishing you a fab week ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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