I’m awake and the
Static fills my brain
With television snow,
An empty drone of
Forgotten friction.
Off script
Archaic television
Shows,
Words as empty as the
Promise to myself
That tomorrow
I’ll turn this all around,
Clear the fuzz out.
I am recursive,
Falling back in on myself,
An eternity of the let down
That I am,
Repeating
Over and over
In the same whiny voice
Same feeble life,
Same dumb choices.
Come see the show,
The dog and pony
Catastrophe
That is the pathetic life
Of Nolan Bucsis.






