Sometimes

Muzik

We just let them through

These plastic sounds that mean nothing

Nerve cells unmeshed

Stoic static, there's no story telling

Velvet monotones going nowhere permanent

Palms on headphones and eyes on the floor

A fetish for the mechanic

We writhe to the obscure.

And it's no coincidence, this place we're at

Cliff hanging by a nail

We laugh

With our heads thrown back.

Regret left for the cock eyed.