The chime of the doorbell rings.
The music pumps inside.
B.Y.O.B on the minds of the young, not so innocent.
There's not a sober being in the place.

Slurred shouting in the air;
booming laughter grabs attention.
Spilled Budweiser pools
in **** carpet and across acid wash jeans.
Burnt popcorn faces rejection.

The outside air smells of drugs,
useless banter and humorless jokes.
The smoke from the bonfire and filtered cigarettes
rises in plumes and hangs in a cloud
above the drugged out faces
after the Friday night football game.