In the proud of the night
(well past the community allowance of social mirth)
curfew has been ignored on mass
The town is flooded with its near full population
on the streets
A tension
Intelligence is lost in the mob formation
all tender that something is frowning
that a ‘big thing’ is about to happen
How do you speak out in this field ?
Town Cryer
An old fashioned post but still held
Professional,
he strikes out a pound against the atmosphere
Might I hold your attention Good People
Gods People may I bend your ear ?
Upon my authority
Mark my words
And
As Goodly subjects of our fare town
I ask that you return to your abodes
Account for your household
Barrier your threshold
Tend a warm hearth
And wait out this night
Praying as family
As unit bond
And union under Gods kind eye
The Cryer has given direction
Repeating to all the gatherings he comes upon
By his office he has told them to swear off
The public move
Infected by the nights vibration
Addled and inflamed
Disperse
Crowds coward together
And relax apart
Walking foal, new to footfall
Unsecured
Sparks in the dark
Unguided and untested
Weapons into the criminal night
New spawned characters
Fused
Laughing giddiots,
scolders,
prancers
Diners, not surgeons
Fledded on venoms
Sense riders
As their individual monsters grow they distance one another
They pepper
Repeating the town
Strays of mess opportunity
Few go straight home
A remattered night is made place
An unpracticed costume horror
No dress rehearsal here !
A remattered night is made