The Tube

No news today, or I can't find the right channel;
that old fox so dashing, so murder, murder,
murder.
Clicking channels back and forth, the drool on
my chin is pastey, stretching from lip to couch.
No news today, what's the deal?
No one's been shot? Ran from the police?
No robberies, no muggings, no rape?
No big investment firms pillaging the faithful?
No true-blue government scandal, coverup, and
eye-witness disappearance?
None of that today. I guess I'll nap.

I'm awake again, drool exploring floor-to-chin.
My toes can move I'm alive. My hair is knotted
in that same old magic, snap the fingers
and start a fire. That same old construction,
managing to build floor up. My brain is lost
again, whats the body for?
Grounding, thats what. Too eletric, kinetic,
we'd shoot straight up you see, become a
lightning bolt buried in Zeus' beard.

Tilt the hourglass a bit, you'll see me there,
head 9 inches in the sand. Whats under there?
I don't know it's dark, the grains are pushing
in on my eye worms. Get the fuck out, they say.
Tilt the hourglass again and drop me on my head.
I can't fit through that little hole, I'll call
it child abuse and tell everyone. I'm not afraid
of public light and enemy eyes.

Einstein said we're all the same energy, and
eventually we'll figure it out. We'll move planets
and create universes or bring them down. I say
we're already there. Earth is going down, I say.
Down to hell and the sandbox can start all over,
all you need is a cup. And a little elbow grease.
Slick.