Logic

Broken

'You've got to fix it,

you have to fix it', I said

to myself.

It can't stay broken for too long

broken pieces -like sand- on the floor

broken TVs are broken.

Did you see it?

It was cloudy as the days

we pray for.

Plain and intricate,

it makes my eyes turn,

my head spin. The 

buzzing sound of pressure and heat and quiet

darkness, then it goes off.

Did you see, hear that? What it said?

It reminds you of those days,

they remind me they aren't mine,

crushing every medium of the

static faith in time.

Is it a crime to be 

a broken TV?

'You have to fix it', I said

'lest the cloudiness leaves me dead'.

I'm tired of talking to myself

alone, to the voices in my head

it's smashed in

that sound is maddening

it doesn't work like it should.

Red, green and black

were the colours of my pen

and those crystal dots

floating around in the air

that TV screen was blank

but I could still hear

like it was taking my breath away.

The sound of the life of a straight line

high and constant and ear-piercing

so you could turn to the other side

but your neck is still and firm

and my spirit's eyes are open wide

but in my body it remains

that broken TV cannot stay the same.

So I turned it off

but the sound is still resonating in my head,

one face in the shadows,

I almost saw it lying in my bed.

Then I wake up,

the TV's off.

I wake up

the TV wasn't in my head, it was broken.