All at sea
No three line whip. Even the adverts
and the tv merge into one homogenous
blob. The talking heads nod in agreement
between the channels and the chatter,
sound like a school play ground.
The length of string between me and
anyone with any importance seems to
be lengthening and I’m wondering if it’s snapped
or whether I’m watching the news
from an island in Hawaii.
My own thoughts rattle around
and this wretched dinghy they
put me on seems to be deflating
like the sorry mess this
has all become.
And now the wind has picked
up and the final breaker, breaks
over and sends me
to the watery grave that is this
endless advert break that they seem
to have on all good tv shows.