10:30pm In Stan's Basement

The moments of nostalgia that make us realize that youth never lasts.

Here it lies

Staggered panes of glass, 

transfixed on light that

flashes through the solid piece

of solid minerals during sunset,

Clusters of aromas,

Stan's basement, stale tobacco, 

warm beer, tanned leather, pot,

dense in the air we breathe,

Holding on it's own.

Old cassettes blare, 

faces smiling, fake,

forced laughter of good times,

sitting, standing, showing 

newly discovered artists,

That no one really cares about,

We all pretend to fit in, 

But nobody ever just "fits in".

Reviews

[IgniteToWrite]

I applaud this piece. Incredible sensory details.