Televisionary Prescriptures

I feel an ever-growing emptiness,
A hole that leaves so much to be desired,
Like the center of God’s name.
Touching my broken circuitry
Which pokes through my metallic skin
You are not here
And I am waking eternally on the edge of rooftops
Strangely I center my electric halo around my numb head
And stumble into a hazy shade of a religious fog.
She breathes into my respirator
Stealing the air from my limbless psyche
I am stuck with this dead infinitely
I will ache for you like brittle china
In time with the broken beat time signature
Your pastiche life of nightmare technology

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