Couch Potato

The Potato expanded to fit the Couch, Bathing in the light of the God of Radiation, A many hued attack on whatever senses remained. Froth overflowing from his beer and his brain Machinegun-like channels blasting and caressing He sank back, understanding but not grasping At all the dangers, all the time never to return. Except in late night re-runs, in a double wasted memory. The weather changed in a moment, but the temperature remained the same As snow and mush bored into his ears, non-compos mentis Horizontally composed, his sole exposed to the white idol... His dreams and nightmares continuing endlessly, a god of his own creation, And demise.