its voice was muffled, though we understood from its tone
a blood red color in the horizon, a droning hue of white noise
a perpetual blackout, comforting us with the uninterrupted feed
of the newswire, its meaningless events, dull opaque eyes, fasting
for the prize, a striptease of the mind, peel back another sheer layer
(and cry)
pretty girl's smiles are currency. a word is worth a diagram
for the color's lost its vibrancy
this world is old, it's
finally lost its will to be
o' comforting electricity
the warm glow of the television
stuttering voices, hawking, chanting
o' static lover, worship me, your pagan god
I would forever write you letters
I would listen to your breath
on the receiver, panicked
I would hold my own, to hear the sigh
of the universe, collapsing
And while the whole world is sleeping
I will hear you creeping
through the hall, looking for another fix
to finally break you
to take you where you need to be
to refuse what you've been lacking
