TV

2 in the morning,
6 at night,
no fucking difference anyway.
Sitting on the sofa in my underpants,
I don’t read anymore,
let alone watch anything on the TV,
that has any significance.

Watching re-runs of The Simpsons boring, Seinfeld, seen ’em all

MASH? Fuckin’ ey!
Gave up on that shit when it became too serious.
Friends, Family Ties, Happy Days,
“Aaaaaayyyyy”.
Extras,
walk on,
smile, nod,
voiceless,
walk off,
$150.00 less taxes.
Uneasy,
Edited out,
money for nothin’
(no chicks for free),
taken away,
deleted ,
While the regular cast zzzz.
I disappear,
“that’s all folks”,
a sacrifice to dramatic tension.

No need to wonder what it would be like to be a redshirt,
disposable.
It happened.

Reverance to the plot’s sigificance,
nada.
Except in an invariably gruesome death,
slashed wrist in the cutting room,
when necessary for the drama.

I think,
with unease,
my purpose?
Fuck all.

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2 Comments

Filed under Outlaw poetry, poetry

2 responses to “TV

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