8th October 2009

Bright lights and young nights,
A smaller, so fainter shadow,
The candid rustle and splitting hum
Of a once yet familiar setting.
All too familiar with the popping and whirling of fifty drops
Of chink, the running noises burning into my ears.

As does the slightly crude blast of a song played once too much,
The whine, it screeches past my ears in a crafty whir of yesterday,
A busy individual makes haste towards my ode;

My mind halts, I keep silent for in my nose resists a coughing spur that enlarged my distaste.
To be stared upon
And scrutinised with no proper withstanding meanings.
For in sickness and health,
One will still go about some method of obtaining attention.

Be it positive,
Be it negative,
Be it paining the ears of eyes of surrounding parties,
In all due respect,
May you please, find your manners and excuse yourself.