This is what it's like living up here in the colour of fire

This is my skin under the television’s glow.
This is a lounge room at 6 degrees.
This is the steam from my mouth as I breathe.
It looks like I’m smoking a cigarette,
but I’m not and I should be.
That’s what’s wrong with this story.
That’s what’s wrong with my mind.
That’s what lies underneath me.
That’s what lies underneath.
This is my search for a station.
This is my search for a sleep remedy.
This is the window iced-up from the cold.
This looks like the fi nest spider’s silk,
spun for one, gone by sun.
That’s what lies underneath…
This is another religious program.
This is another prayer for another channel.
This is a gameshow slash reality program.
It fi lters out the real aspect
and you get distorted emotions, canned ham.
That’s why things just seem easier.
That’s why we pull at the sheets.
That’s what lies underneath me.
That’s what lies underneath.
This is more repetition.
This is how we’re taught to learn.
This is where I exit the freeway.
This looks like a good day to die.
The weather man said things look good.
That’s what lies underneath.

First published in Rabelais.