Sinking

Every week we look forward to the weekend
Every year we look forward to Christmas
Can't I extract myself from this rhythm?
I know Saturdays can be bad.
Christmas isn't as exciting on Christmas.
Don't make me such a stranger,
Didn't we lock eyes during rush hour?
Make our silent alliance in the hum of the race?
Trust me in my acceleration.
I'll always be looking back, or at least around
It's only water for everyone else.
I unwrap eternally,
peeling back the pattern,
aware that it's already over.
I live impatiently, to see what's inside

TV/Radio

I love the idea of life, but
Buying scratch-offs and losing them with the change made from the broken twenty that bought the scratch-off are some of the things people do every day,
Some people do, some days,
Preserve the time in tile floors
Who will flatten our world?
Who will jump into the sky and render us a moving picture?
We did it to Lucy, and Al Roker,
What can you do.
Are you a communist too?
There's a fireside chat inside my melting head,
I and I and I sit around after dinner,
Mute to the control booth,
Picking up the signals,
Scratching off tickets with our teeth in this anarchist state