Bad Poetry 201

Here's more angsty bullshit from so long ago. If only that version of me could hear me screaming, maybe he'd stop.

Prime Time

Hurry up and watch!

Quick sit down to see

open your dead eyes

stare with hypnotic absence

As men smear the blood of infants

across the glass

Old men in dull gray suits

rip the viscera of the living

to entertain that dead

Broadcast Death and Pain

They murder you slowly

Killing with the sights

the sounds and the smells of terror

You can't get enough

there's one in every room

These same gray men

have made a junkie of you

Shoot up for hours on end

Ask that kid of yours

that one you don't understand

Beg them to Call the Corner

Because someone has killed you

You're Dead

Dead of Radiation Sickness

So...I'm better than people who watch television. I think I wrote this in front of the television. The word "hypocrite" seems to good for this version of myself.