Someone must have messed up me settings.
The brightness and tint.
This'll cost me a mint.
Or is the weather given me the bad reception I'm getting?
The color and tone!
Where's my volume?
"You drone"!
All the flashing is giving me seizures!
The grass is red.
My vision?
My head?
The buttons appear to be missing.
Am I vertically changed?
Horizontally thick?
Well out of focus!
The horrorible flick!
Can you grab me or pull?
Am I rubber or balsawood?
Non matter silly putty?
Truly misunderstood?
The Gleam?
The Sheen?
The satellites careen!
And I'm stuttering like Max Headroom!
Where's the switch?
Where's the cord?
Is this more cable then I can afford!
Is this the Pie eyed piper we waverly absorb?
Microwaved TV dinners eaten out of satellite dishes.
A couch potatoed junky bliss?
I watch every channel so there's nothing I miss.
I need fly eyes, I wish.
Televised sublime scarring.
Watching the pulse of the world.
It sells me ideals?
And that's just the news!
The waves break me down.
A sonic religion I found.
My eye teeth have cavities.
The static of candy.
�2003 Daniel J Harris