Sitting and Looting

Let the record state that he did not commit this crime
He was laying in his home on a hard wood floor
Watching the latest news on the history channel
Channel surfing through the exact spots he'd been before
Pausing only briefly then coming back for more
Circles and circles that go around and around
To no ones surprise he is utterly forgettable
Lacking all his motor skills as he slips away into oblivion
No matter the cost of pay per view
He will dream of everything under the sun
While the waning moonlight passes once again
Determined to float on his cloud till its over
But the television static keeps his mind shocked
Keeps his blankets too warm to cover with
As the cold essences of night and winter bleed into his skin
He will shiver while sports casters review the week
Lying about their favored influences
Commiting sins as they rattle off insults to the institutions that allowed them to exist
and he will shake in place distracted by the sound of the passing track stars
Training in the summer while they hustle from block to block
Keeping in shape in little short shorts
But he has no time to watch the view
He's busy turning it from channel one too two
Little by little the termite mounds build
Molding into the houses that are digested still
His home and he's been getting older
But no more bolder as they begin to eat his toe nails
For there is nothing left but he
He and his television
He and his cable equipment
Everything is on
But none of it means shit
And when the hopeless romantics pass him by
Trying to take pity on him
He will shoo them off
Haven't not bathed for days
His eyes are glued to a commercial
Featuring some famous star
Just lying through their teeth.