THE back of my Television
Is like back stage at a bad high school play
Where thespians roam with their unwashed hair
Where the dust is so thick, it smothers all creativity

The back of my Television
Is like a graveyard for plastics
Where the rotting corn chips lie with the rubber bands from
    nowhere
And the wires are crossed like the hairs in my crotch

The back of my Television
Where I hear the dying screams of the washed-up actor
Emitting waves of relentless muted undistinguishable audio
Crashing against the baseboard in my hollow ear

The back of my Television
Is where fear and manipulation congregate
I fall deep down into its black synthetic grimy crevices
And wonder ''Where have you gone Mister Rabbit Ears''