Advice from an empty bottle # 4

I don’t particularly like them, but 
from a distance they become art  
upending my curiosity.  
Sit me at a table with one  
and I will tug at my nose hairs  
to keep still whilst I excuse myself.  
 
The beers have made it okay  
to be amongst them,  
but sober… I must stay right here;  
in bed with pornography,  
cigarettes and books.  
 
I make the mistake of using the internet  
whilst in this fragile state;  
I am bombarded with photographs  
of elaborate homosexuals,  
social gatherings  
and young women nursing their children.  
I shudder.  
 
There was never meant to be  
any horror inside of futility,  
but here it is staring at me.  
Even the simple act of writing  
is endangered by ulterior motives:  
Necessity has suffered a stroke  
and been replaced by worship.  
 
Your television sets are making  
morons out of you.  
Even your books are likely   
to punctuate badly.  
Music is making you shout  
where you could whisper.  
There is enough good advice  
left untouched on dusty shelves  
but why bring that up…  
 
Not one of you will go out  
and look for it,  
will you?