sugar-soaked in sepia our expressions embellished like squashed liquorice a sticky tattoo on tattered sleeves an exhibition of adolescence
smiles that split our faces sore gnawed lips cracking to reveal chattered gnashers stained from library coffee and polished with bargainbin toothpaste
our salted skin doused in ***** and coke – making the memory oh-so sweeter surrounded by a band of bar-time brothers lost in an array of technicolour strobes oblivious to the incoming traffic and the carcrash they call adulthood
I remember the melody being played the regular Wednesday swansong NOW DON'T LOOK BACK IN ANGER