It seems now, still, and into forever, meaning and being
arrive incorrectly, deciphered through perspective lacking

the cosmic kind of clarity you think we'd be preaching by now
but here I stand, represented by death and persecution,
******, abuse and defamation, stuck in limbo, curtains half-drawn
waiting to see if I'm one -- winding up just another number

Tell me, have you seen it?
Exposure in drip-drop?
Even though shown, so slightly shone, less than any other broadcast
Lasting less than any length of time divining prime time due process

Still we receive clapped hands and stop,
how could we dare intrude living rooms
and man caves, "Man, flip that tab back to Vine,
let me disintegrate." It seems I live to die in
higher percentage and end the show to
indignation. Happy Anniversary.