And thus were
My Digital Dreams
Electrocuted.
Because of the Signal
of Trust
Being weak
I lost the sublime
connection
To the channel of your
Love.
I now miss
Almost
All the Programs of Hope
All the Soaps of Happiness
Every Sitcom of Tears
And yes
All your
Emotional Ads.
I failed
Utterly
As a Consumer of
Passions.
My soul
Now
is
An old flickering TV
Beyond repair
Which they keep banging
With their fists of Intellect.
Meanwhile
I keep looking for you
In the white noise map
Of my rectangular
being.
Life is a low TRP
Serial.
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