Ttthee fiirstttt timmee
i was alone with le tele
i got excited
as a kid of 8
i knew tv was fun

my dad
went to work early morning time
i grabbed up my
favorite blanky
and sat down in its presence

the icy cold remote in
my handddddddddddddddddddddddddd,

blood guts and big *****
tv knows about everything
STD results and Wars on Terror
my favorite cartoons
McDonalds has a new sandwich
i am not the father
Lindsay's back in jail
stage collapse smushes ***** couple
scientists report, transfat is a-okay
President's schtupping an intern
moonbase has a ******* epidemic
i think i want to grow up to be a juicehead
45 dead in pakistani drone strike
i figure,
they'll just re-spawn or
I'll wish them back
when I collect the dragonballs

anthrax in the mail and
feet on the beaches
eyes in the sky
eyes from under

bomb threat at my school
mom had me
stay home
and
munch on some chips
watch the tv

Help me take on this world of woe
I know I can't do it on my own
While people are fading and changing
I'm a permanent fixture, watching, waiting
Run your fingers down my back to keep me fixed
Eradicate my distractions with every kiss
And I'll put my hands to your face
I won't waste this precious space
I think we can do this if we are strong.
Standing in the middle of this surging throng.

I am a leviathan
I love like a shipwreck.
I am warm darkness
in the belly of the beast.
I'll swallow you whole.

I am envy,
I love like a sea monster.
I am calm and terror,
the rusted anchor
at the pit of a drowning
man's stomach. I am
salt water, flooding your lungs.

I am years of tempest
and unending rain,
I am an oil spill on black ocean.
I am windstorm; I smother, I take,
I love like a death sentence.

your name is
a poem on its own
it needs no
rhyme or meter

You might think it’s impossible
or you may have never thought of it at all,
But I do believe there’s such a thing
as a response that could never come too late.
For it would be fine for you to tell me in 5 years,
when you think my life has caused me to forget you,
and you would find my love still as strong as it is today.
Or in 15, when I’ve found someone else,
and I would still be ready to find you all over again.
You could tell me in 40, so we could retire early,
and do our best to make up for lost time.
Or in 60, so we can lie together in our last few years, holding each other as we die.
Love, if you could tell me in a century that you feel the same as I do now,
no doubt all of my essence, my elements, my own recycled atoms
would be sure to find yours again,
no matter what star, what planet they reside on.
For no matter when you say you love me too,
it could never come too late.

I think I would be cooler if
I were in Savage Garden…
or maybe if I were Ms.Pac-Man.

I could munch those
brightly glowing
crystalline spheres
straight into your heart,
only to be consumed
by the array of multicolored ghosts
that dwell inside.

But, resting among the bones,
I would rise again to join my new
poly-chromatic, phantom friends,
and wail ****** college love songs
for hope that maybe
you would hear.

ignorance follows me around every corner
and i’m tired of running away to avoid it
i live in a world where post-**** abortions must be proven to be legit
where ****** is advertised to come with a free **** kit
this world is a place where musicians make more than the president
and foreign residents with phd’s are struggling to make ends meet
a continent is left to die to the beat of the greed and street crime
the faces of the dying people don’t look like mine, so i guess it’s fine
i can carry a television with me in my pocket and make phone calls on it
there’s a hit reality show about a five year old girl dressed up like a corner ***
child molesters are taking fashion notes for their dungeon homes
fairy tales are profitable and everyone is worried about a zombie apocalypse
the living dead exist miserably in mass housing and arthritis has destroyed their threat of violence
we are now split in a rational debate over fulfillment of two thousand year old myths or if aliens will come back for us
and a man gets top billing in a national political conference to talk to a chair about war and the capital deficit
actresses are paid thousands of dollars to put make up on and get punched in the face
gladiatorial arts to amuse the masses resurrected for the television age
bread and circuses but there’s no bread left so let’s give them a show
i’m rambling like a crazy man but i don’t see the cameras rolling so it’s all for naught