The static roars above all else around
Ten seconds is too long for me to think
The dull glowing light with stereo sound
My eyes become scratchy the world must blink.
My thoughts flicker like a rusty circuit
How is it that I can be so confused?
Memories are wicks that should be kept lit
The things most precious are the things I loose.
Creation is a thing devoid to me
A sustained long effort for all things great
My thoughts are too choppy to form a stream
Channel changing constantly is my fate
I guess I live on a televised stage
The youth are privileged with minds of old age
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