Creaking, cracking when the wood
doth smack and the springs fail
again and again in pure dark.
Tiring, too late and reminiscing
in states where we lost our hearts
to a jukebox nailed to the floor.
Vulgarity is the utmost, raucous
endeavour and all we see is
a tunnel of night; too clever.
When the doors open and the
lights go on, a stiff breeze
is bashful and shaming.
The boards ‘neath bare feet
are pricking splinters only to
jab and jibe and remind us of life.
Vast Imbecility 