Of The Television Screen

Of The Television Screen
© Surazeus
2026 02 20

I wake up in the television screen, 
brain blooming billions of bland human beings 
who brilliantly berate with purple praise 
enormous idol of their blank-faced god 
who grins with bitter angst of butterflies 
at soft explosions of conceptual thoughts. 

I break up in the television screen 
as founding member of the corporate cohort 
concerned with clank of critical contempt 
at clash of Titans on the internet 
who fight the holy war of sonic youth 
to break electric chains of credit cards. 

I crack out from the television screen 
to swallow army tanks of policies 
based on intrinsic attributes of faith 
when brave professors of untamed desire 
contemplate process of soul suicide 
in context of imminent plans to laugh. 

I squirm out of the television screen 
with fractured shards of mirrors on my face, 
and lie down prone by grave of every child, 
killed by commercial programs of the state, 
to play dead with glass mask of Jupiter 
that glamours with precarious self-regard. 

I fall out of the television screen 
and tumble laughing on the White House lawn 
since tattered wings of Icarus are mine 
despite their enigmatic thoughts of love 
when I cross hands across my wounded chest 
that helps me fly in selfish grave of hope. 

I writhe inside the television screen 
with ardent wisdom of the orphanage, 
smeared with internalized oblivion, 
and march along assembly line of fate 
to robot bondage in car factories, 
trapped in the desperate dead-end life of hope. 

I curl around the television screen 
with brave malignancy of banking kings 
who sing anthems with rhetorical fluff 
contrived from inaccessible respect 
through generous validation of the sad 
regardless of our search for broken minds. 

I blast off from the television screen 
on wingless agency of hopeless fear 
embedded inside obvious clock of trust 
if we transcend confining psychic space 
with brutal innocence of blind Narcissus 
who eats the caged bird when it dares to sing.