Changing Channels

Changing Channels

Is this what it’s like to be God?

Sitting on a threadbare sofa,

Click… click… click…

Click… click-ing through channels

And watching the universe unfold

On a hazy television screen?

There's Nothing On

There’s Nothing On

Rehashed, reused, recycled…

Originality, long abandoned

A thousand flickering pages

Of uninspired leftovers

Out of options; nothing to see

Same means… same end…

Why did I ever believe

It could be any different?

I must have gone insane…