November 2, 2011
I run, run, run home from an old geezer’s habitat.
A model figure limping with autumn combat boots approaches me.
Combat boots is one of her favorite articles to wear in ashes.
The jump suit resting on her reflects the burnt black letters along a book page.
What does this mysterious creature do with spare time?
The black box which I know like the palm of my hand appears.
The electronic shining screen represents nothing but
Hate for T.V. eating my quality breathing time.
I call the T.V. head Fallen because our world
Falls to ashes when technology rages its last scream of victory.
I cringe at her screeching voice of rejoice in the rule of insane screens.
Fallen hates the surge of knowledge that books withholds.
So Fallen puts all the buzzing energy from channels in her cranium
Into singeing the meaninglessness nonsense that fills books.
I do not grasp the stupidity of charring words of rich wisdom.
After searing books for many years, I only yearn to gain intelligence.
My acquaintance, Fallen brings out the best in my wishful learning but
The worst in my uncontrollable anger toward the colorful cube consuming society.

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