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Rated: E · Poetry · Writing.Com · #1597825
The bowl of clean cold water beside cheap dog food.
Into a night of weariness. I write to you more out of curiosity of what you'll say, than what these digits will create.

Frightfull words can be... Worse is their intention. What is there to watch tonight?

Images dance across a screen and sounds that no attention is paid by me. I am weary from a long day of restlessness. Cant you entertain my brain? Your channels put forth drivel! Neither can I be lulled or interested enough to rid my thoughts.

I have seen you before... I smile. I didnt have to put forth a disc nor read. You are number 327. Your repetion and your laugh track make it so I could nearly mouth the words you speak in sync.

  The door knocks... I pay no heed. Then laugh at what I'm watching.

It knocks again... Louder.

In a controlled fury I arise and shout at it.

Metal frame onto which door is mounted bends from shock.

I dont have any time. I am found.

Said door wont last the onslaught for even a minute. I am windowless. I AM TRAPPED!
© Copyright 2009 PC Miller (kingmelville at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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