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.
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