Friday Night Live (Poem)
It’s Friday again, and I’m counting hours
Biting every tick like I own time
Calling, texting,… Hi five
Wanna be my date at night time?I’ve got Gucci on my wrist… that’s fine
Prada on my feet… high class
Uber got me waiting, and my heart is raging, praying
I think I’m about to implode like WiFiSeven on the dot and we up high
Cruising on the street in my ride
Girls kissing on my cheeks and I’m down tight
Bad time, but I’m alrightBottles, women, weed… many
Puffing, blowing, cracking, it’s heaven
Living the dream life, the wild life, chilling
Healing my life with alcohol, women
Someone, please take me home,
I’m FINISHED.–Clement H. Holloway
The weekend rolls in like a tidal wave. The world shifts gears, and for many, Friday night is the grand escape—the moment to break free from the monotony of life and dive into something thrilling. The countdown begins, plans are made, outfits are picked, and hearts race with anticipation.
But what are we really chasing?
The Countdown to the Illusion
“It’s Friday again, and I’m counting hours
Biting every tick like I own time
Calling, texting,… Hi five
Wanna be my date at night time?”
The poem opens with an eagerness that’s almost desperate. The clock is the enemy, and every second that passes is another step closer to the promised thrill of the night. There’s a hunger in the air—a longing for connection, excitement, and validation. The calls and texts aren’t just about making plans; they’re about filling a void.
We crave the night, not just for fun, but because we hope it will make us feel something more.
The Façade of Luxury & Status
“I’ve got Gucci on my wrist… that’s fine
Prada on my feet… high class
Uber got me waiting, and my heart is raging, praying
I think I’m about to implode like WiFi”
Luxury brands, fast rides, and the symbols of high-class living—it’s all part of the image. Society tells us that looking expensive means feeling fulfilled. But beneath the shine of Gucci and Prada, there’s anxiety. There’s a restless heart, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this night will be different.
But does status ever fill the emptiness inside?
Living the ‘Dream’—Or Just Distracting Ourselves?
“Seven on the dot and we up high
Cruising on the street in my ride
Girls kissing on my cheeks and I’m down tight
Bad time, but I’m alright”
The party begins. The music is loud, the lights are blinding, and the energy is electric. It feels like freedom, like being on top of the world. But beneath the surface, something isn’t right. Bad time, but I’m alright—a contradiction that speaks volumes.
How often do we force ourselves to enjoy what we know isn’t really fulfilling?
The Highs, The Lows, and The Crash
“Bottles, women, weed… many
Puffing, blowing, cracking, it’s heaven
Living the dream life, the wild life, chilling
Healing my life with alcohol, women
Someone, please take me home,
I’m FINISHED.”
At its peak, the night feels like heaven—pure indulgence, sensory overload, reckless abandon. But what happens when the high wears off?
The last line, I’m FINISHED, hits hard. The excitement collapses into exhaustion. The ‘dream life’ doesn’t feel so dreamy anymore. The bottles are empty, the smoke has cleared, and what’s left is just… reality.
What Are We Really Chasing?
This poem isn’t just about a night out—it’s about the deeper search for meaning.
✦ Are we partying because we love it, or because we’re afraid of stillness?
✦ Are we living freely, or are we escaping something?
✦ Is this fulfilment, or just another distraction?
Friday nights promise magic, but too often, they deliver nothing more than a fleeting illusion. And by the time the night ends, we realize the truth—we weren’t living, we were running.
So the real question is: What are you running from?
Your Thoughts?
Have you ever felt this way about a night out? Do we chase thrills or avoid realities? Drop a comment and let’s talk about it.
