Television As Glorified Citizen Kane

Upon making the treacherous undertaking optimal poetic theme to write dangerous, and arduous foray into spooky catacomb, I in vite, where fear doth dill liver worst trek to our mailbox tonight risking life and limb at very right angled turn summoning em mon ent mettle pluck quite for quotidian plight, asper hiding unseen creatures sealed in dark shadows along the edge of night way after deep into nighttime hours, I cautiously slink with steely might thru barely adequate light even for this healthy as an ox good knight relying on a Jack o'lantern designed jacklight with superb vision, and supreme insight steadily held above mine five feet and ten inches average height espy spilling thru underneath securely eye booked deal lee shut tight locked heavy metal doors, a faint glimmer sans gaslight possibly from blaring, flashing, and placating television screen se essentially keeping curmudgeonly aged residents company, while reminiscent nostalgic "FAKE" memories take flight as such wistful foregone reflections upon the gift of a watermelon pickle excite, viz the cobwebbed whirled wide give "tearful", though pained years gone by blinkered back teary delight a hermetically sealed story, one will never get ghost written, nor affixed with a copyright depressingly clamped down inescapable emotionally stagnating autobiographical blight.