T.V Static Anxiety

What's it ever worth?

It's always the same clown masks and red lipstick

Always smeared as far away as a source of aid

And always boxed in as a unwanted hit

But maybe if I bring the acid

I'll be a god standing atop your dazed clouds

...

Send in another message of advice

And yet I'm burning away all incoming letters

I guess it really is me to blame

As if the deprecation hinted at her for my melancholy

But when will she crawl out of my head?

Please do, for I don't even have vacancy for myself

...

And if it ever does really come back

Like the karma that likes to spit in my shoes

Will the sunlight given wilt my own dead flowers?

Might as well try

But then again

What's the point of pouring water on dead roses

...