Thursday 9th August


The music makes my toes curl,
The kind they play when you get a massage,
That I always ask to be turned off,

This is worse,
It’s got fake strings,
Imaginary bigness,
Swells of plastic emotions fill an otherwise perfect evening,

It stops suddenly,
A distorted voice says,
(Deep & low),
Here comes the night,
Announced with a beautiful imperfection,
That makes small children laugh,
And families stop eating to gasp


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