Blind

No form, no function
just self-induced destruction
 
blocked receptors unravel
observing the undeserved  
a second serving  
of an unfinished novel
 
page by page pulled into their quarters
there's not one getting away
 
the ticker streams across the screen
and I can hear their screams
or so it seems
the bought, the sold
real stories never told
 
those dished and displayed
taking silence to the grave
 
whispers I hear whispers
 
I reach into the frozen waters
washing with it the angst away
parched taste buds now tingle
unfortunately tomorrow's another day