Radio days

Once a day, five days a week, I take a train to Amsterdam and tune in to a very local radio station. It reaches no one but me and broadcasts for a hundred seconds. That's all. It plays killer songs, its music is secret, private and deadly. No head phones, but lead slabs to keep the radio right there, inside me, where I boogy to a rythm I can't hear and can't feel. Like being shut out of myself. Work in progress. Don't tamper with the settings. Keep still under all circumstances. Don't move.
Breathe.
And wait.
Thank you mister Den Tex. See you tomorrow.