escher poetry — [Z] :: 4

in a museum
of horrible creatures
displayed in small cabinets
under dust

i swear i see
one thick tentacle
twitch
clear arteries pulse
slowly

oh the glories of childhood TV
the way after 50 years
they still poison me
with the threat of non–reality
made as canvas
for terror

it was oh so easy
dead TV producers
the adverters gave you dosh
the children were poisoned for life

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