Armchair Theatre
Anne Clark
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This house is full of loneliness
Of sad weary silence
I switch on the television
For some company
Two actors
A man and a Woman
Give exaggerated little moans
As they simulate
A so called stimulating fuck
For my entertainment
Beneath the endless groans
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It's not real
It's pretend
Just like we pretended that last time
To make you
Night is the most difficult part off all
I don't need this
I don't need this
I don't need this
This vile, crude reminder
Of how we play out our roles
Without any script at all
