It’s late.

I stare at the Test Pattern,

pretty in a sense,

when quiet,

serene technology of the 20th Century.

But then

the deafening tone shrieks,

public service at work,

to make sure you turn the TV off,

except I can’t.

It’s stuck.

And I’m stuck.

The piercing repeats

and repeats,

dementedly,

demonically.

Wrong time, wrong place.

A special kind of torture.

I try to shield my ears,

to no avail.

Life, today.

 

©ddr7hd

 

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