Izzy and Kat SS9 Final Draft

9 Jul

Welcome to Leeds Festival; don your aprons we’re cooking for the crowds.

Slap of limp discs of meat

Skin sizzles

Eager in the liquid heat

Leaping, screaming, craving release

Grease wadded beneath bandanas

Faces gleaming

Youths clammer

For my offer of damp, mealy burgers

It’s a carnival in here

All colours, hot bodies

I see the beads of sweat dancing

Round the fluorescent paint on my customers face

Elbow to elbow

Me and the other girl

Both simmering silence

But I can tell Her own world is wrapped round her

All judgmental glances, tired sighs

Like we’re above all the kids Who try to order while high

These poorly paid minutes spent

Glued to the big screen hatch in the van

Watch a real life documentary on repeat

And the field burns: all dust, ozone, insults

Hunger for a world outside our fast-food cell

Play spot the top knot

Play spot the kid who’s so off it he couldn’t find his top knot if he was holding his head

Over there

He turns slow circles in blue camp

Glazed and twitching

And they take selfies with him

Nearby a girl sloshes some unknown blue drink

Yelps as it discolours her merch

“You ok love?”

Play spot the f*** boys

“Let me buy you another.”

“No, let me get it!”

“Can I help you take it off?”

The boys swarm

Spring free from Range Rovers

Fresh from exam halls

And the kid still spirals

Play spot the fire hazard

Alcohol and bodies like scattered ash on the grass

DIY barbeques

Tents abandoned like road kill

Seared by the shriek of a boy

Lynx can ignited

Breathing washed bluish flames

Scented with the fragrance

That never got him laid

Look over there

Play spot the common hipster

Their flower crowns a halo

Forced upon their skulls

Bleached blonde and hidden behind white rimmed sunglasses

Their festival is digital, artificial

Photos or it didn’t happen, doesn’t matter

Watch the stage through pixels and snap chat

their smeared sugar lips as they sip vodka and coke and older boys

Play spot every kid we wish we could be

With their illegal glass

Swapping names and bottles

Each face a blurred Polaroid bliss,

We’re witnessing mass hysteria, we’re itching for the fix

See a girl, flung high into the spears of up stretched hands

We know what it’s like, eyelids swimming

Glance back and she’s faceless

Waist deep in the mud and running

We stay as if we are stable

As if we don’t feel the vibrations in our soles

As if we are not just worms being called to the surface by rain

Play spot the festival beat, can you feel it, can you remember it?

Last year, dropped jackets in the mud

Disjointed riddle of silent discos

Melted into the ink pool of rustling denim

Last year our skin laced with adrenaline

Wondering when we last wondered what time it was

And then the clouds break

Rain streaks the bottled tans

Cools the rouged bikini shoulders

Pop up tents stage dive

Trampled into acned pulp

Mud spotted lost wellies

Cameras flash in the chaos

We stay as if we are stable

As if we don’t feel the rain drop endorphin shots

Stampeding over the roof of this hot tin box

For a brief look skyward

The party stops


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: