Early on
My T.V. was controlled
By my mother and older sister
Because of this
I have an immunity
To awful television

Americas Next Top Whatever
Growing up Whatever
The Housewives of Wherever
All the spinoffs
All the three week
Episodic backstory
Specials

Everything

I have found this taste in T.V.
Is engrained in most girls and women
Not all of them mind you
But most

From all of the
Nonsensical story lines
Wooden and awkward acting
Scripted life tragedies
Artificially inseminated arguments
Pointless and pedantic drama
Lifetime movies stick out

They are their own special breed
Because of this
They are beautiful
And I enjoy them immensely

So many meaningless sub plots
Badly framed shots
Ridiculous morals
Awfully choreographed action sequences
That have nothing to do
With the movie at all

In this way
They are their  
Own type of pure

I have no shame
Besides
There is no where else
That I can watch an hour and a half
Of a police woman
Being hunted by her surrogate
Who was her best friend
(Before she psychotically fell in love with
The police woman's husband)
While the police woman is
Haunted by the ghost of her
Dead mother who
Gives her advice
From beyond the grave

Finally
With the help of the ghost mother
The police woman
And her misogynistic male partner
(Who is no longer a misogynist
Because she is such a **** fine cop)
Corner the surrogate
Who now has an assault rifle
And they end up having to blow her
Away
Emptying their guns
As she yells out and spins
Too many times into some faceless
Mansion's swimming pool
Ending with a slow motion splash
And no charges pressed anywhere
On anyone

All of this
Played by the up and coming
Talent of yesteryear
And the same six
Recycled actors
Who butcher their lines and roles
So artistically
That tense and awful moments
Make me convulse with laughter

It is surreal
And totally worth the guilt
I feel for enjoying such
Rancidly composed filth

when i curled up at your touch,
there was no rearview mirror in your eyes
Your hand’s a gift-wrapped fantasy
Your face an apology
for a crime that was not yours.

rather, i feared
that if i yawned open (creaking)
the love trickling out would be yellow (and reeking)
my bones unstitched, you’d run away (shrieking)
                       (i’m slick with sickness on the floor)

can’t shake this (him), rancidly grasping
grinding (and swallowing) and caving, collapsing
my body a coffin lay innocence rasping
rotting and ruinous and wasted and worn

i love within a cage. Don’t open it;
i don’t want to see what’s inside