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Television Blues

A life looks so real on television I admit,
And I cried watching it
The depiction is so original;
Even if the love stories of fruits and flowers,
The soft and tender kind, in these days of wars,
Even if their love stories are so detached—
For I see, if not on the TV, the only cracks
The cracks inside our own carcasses
The cracks inside our own flesh
The cracks inside one corner of the garbage dump;
It is pathetic;
I’m drowning in self-pity;
The images do keep flowing,
Of the flowers and the fruits inside the cracks.
I see on the TV too,
How big buildings of big shops make us a human being
Now it is hard to tell what is real and what is not.



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