Death By Plasma
Later that night
my eyes fell into the plasma screen.
I had reached a point of dimly-lit-dull,
no-thought was my open mouth.
Maybe I was dreary to the bone broth;
dead spots creep up on you
when reality has nothing left to do.
Slowly my hands rose up,
to find my face,
slowly my attention drifted in
from a darkroom far from now.
It had been a good day
so why am I lingering in a movie
not watching, just seeing myself
asleep
on a dead horse?
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