Don’t stare at me.
I’m not on the Tate wall
or in the night sky.
Stare back at the TV screen,
just get glued and clueless
from the flashing flicks
and get tan from its glow.
You have sewn those clothes
and armchair onto yourself,
your mouth is bursting at the seems
with mangled food and saliva.
Repeat yourself for the final time,
as this sentence has been on too long,
I heard you say before you said.
So don’t talk now, you bore me anyhow.
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