Bloodstains on blackboard tick

Down the panicked time

Spontaneous children calling

As a tragic register is taken

Drinking champagne from

Cups for Italian kings

 

In Sandringham the Queen’s bedside lamp blew

While in the Mariana trench deep down

Harry the Angler fish muttered a frantic phew!

As his lamp came on and he thought fuck it!

Time to go to town!

 

So I angled the line of miscontent fired up with

The place they live with no thoughts of coffee

And café bar society with drained technology

And rats scramble around a mansion

House, desperate to mate, while art decays

 

Danced around your laughs with a certain

Scent inside, down the runaway stairs

Avatars hide from what they

Haven’t got, by a swinging light

Bulb in the now of tired pleasure.