(no subject)
I'm sitting here on a Sunday with two screens.
One is feeding me all the things I despise about wealth,
but I thought it'd be a glamourous way to while away the wait.
I ended up getting sick instead.
I can't appreciate what you're wearing
when there are people arm in arm in a building,
and they have been there all through the night
and they will not go gentle.
I try to reevaluate my reason for flipping on screen one.
Screen one, screen one, I tried to take a walk with you,
but you've begun to smother me with your oblivion.
I keep waiting for someone inside to stop and think your belly strange.
I keep waiting for someone to be wonderfully gnarled and glare you cold.
I keep waiting for someone to stop you midnonsense and say,
"We are in a box, goddamn it. Have you looked outside
of late?" But everyone keeps milling about and the longer they mill
the more desperate and angry I become.
Screen one, screen one, you bastard.
You've let me down, and I am not in the mood for trash.
Screen two, you are hurling your heated passion my way incessantly.
I sit here and become saturated with your deep-set purpose
while screen one smiles and I tell it to shut up before I am torn
into two or three and all my writhing insides ruin the carpet.
I'd send that very carpet your way, screen two, as some apology for my sedentary state.
Screen two is more real than I am, perhaps.
I turn them both off and brood up the stairs.
How is it that screen one and screen two can share a room?
Two hates one, but one is too titanic to even notice.
I am I horrible for letting one even light up my wall?
I don't want to feel horrible, but two is right and I am uneasy.
Perhaps someday I'll throw myself and one and tell it how warped its worldview is.
Perhaps someday I'll go to two and weep at its weary feet and offer it my soul.
Perhaps I'll continue to bob between them, like I am now.
Screen one will sneak back later, once the sickness has broken,
and I will remember how celluloid charms me so.
Screen two, I know you'll still be there, glaring up at me as if I were screen one.
It's no use to try and convince you otherwise, but someday I'll try to be more like you.
I admire you, screen two, I truly do, and that must count for something.
All screens leave me polarized, you know.
Wretched as it may leave me, I suppose it's ultimately a good thing I'm so broken up.
It means screen two has a real chance for tomorrow.
One is feeding me all the things I despise about wealth,
but I thought it'd be a glamourous way to while away the wait.
I ended up getting sick instead.
I can't appreciate what you're wearing
when there are people arm in arm in a building,
and they have been there all through the night
and they will not go gentle.
I try to reevaluate my reason for flipping on screen one.
Screen one, screen one, I tried to take a walk with you,
but you've begun to smother me with your oblivion.
I keep waiting for someone inside to stop and think your belly strange.
I keep waiting for someone to be wonderfully gnarled and glare you cold.
I keep waiting for someone to stop you midnonsense and say,
"We are in a box, goddamn it. Have you looked outside
of late?" But everyone keeps milling about and the longer they mill
the more desperate and angry I become.
Screen one, screen one, you bastard.
You've let me down, and I am not in the mood for trash.
Screen two, you are hurling your heated passion my way incessantly.
I sit here and become saturated with your deep-set purpose
while screen one smiles and I tell it to shut up before I am torn
into two or three and all my writhing insides ruin the carpet.
I'd send that very carpet your way, screen two, as some apology for my sedentary state.
Screen two is more real than I am, perhaps.
I turn them both off and brood up the stairs.
How is it that screen one and screen two can share a room?
Two hates one, but one is too titanic to even notice.
I am I horrible for letting one even light up my wall?
I don't want to feel horrible, but two is right and I am uneasy.
Perhaps someday I'll throw myself and one and tell it how warped its worldview is.
Perhaps someday I'll go to two and weep at its weary feet and offer it my soul.
Perhaps I'll continue to bob between them, like I am now.
Screen one will sneak back later, once the sickness has broken,
and I will remember how celluloid charms me so.
Screen two, I know you'll still be there, glaring up at me as if I were screen one.
It's no use to try and convince you otherwise, but someday I'll try to be more like you.
I admire you, screen two, I truly do, and that must count for something.
All screens leave me polarized, you know.
Wretched as it may leave me, I suppose it's ultimately a good thing I'm so broken up.
It means screen two has a real chance for tomorrow.