Dark the Angels Sing

Seahouses under slate sediment emerging to join history much as the young men with severe haircuts look for camaraderie in trenched game of football, until its time to go back and destroy the evidence, it hurts them more than it hurts men that are buckled in uniformly, it is after all a long way down and a long way round until you arrive, then it may seem pointless. Distraction is encouraged at every stage in classical theatre, where its known as reason. At night the softly focussed detail is a fluff of warm indistinctiveness the dust that lives in sunbeams, enmeshed in thickest tobacco smoke, enlivened by net-curtains, settles calmly , now buzzing trapped inside a neon stop-light, mistaken as morse and radio noise but its so dissimilar don't you think? its so theatrical, aroma of composed elements, no author could ever sign off something so defiantly unfinished. Gleefully they mow down the grass blades, lying to support their strident existence, from the beginning the bow string arc grew tense, their finest hour was not

Done