Standing there
under the blinding
and the mixing of a million
different colours and
under the lines of synthpop
and electronic beats like
the knocks of a unwelcome guest
I tried my very best as I was
taught from young to do so to
comfort you without pleasing
you to touch you without making
contact like a grand magic trick, ta-da
the snake has disappeared as
you cried your hands clutching
upon the old polaroids your right
hand upon the half-empty half-full
glass of low-quality whisky were you
trying to send me a message I’m running
out of time and patience and time