Television As Glorified Citizen Kane

Upon making
    the treacherous
     undertaking optimal
     poetic theme to write
dangerous, and
     arduous foray into
     spooky catacomb, I in vite,
     where fear doth

     dill liver worst
     trek to our mailbox tonight
risking life and limb
     at very right
angled turn
     summoning em mon ent
     mettle pluck quite
for quotidian plight,

asper hiding unseen creatures
     sealed in dark shadows
     along the edge of night
way after deep
     into nighttime hours,
     I cautiously slink
     with steely might
thru barely adequate light

even for this healthy
     as an ox good knight
relying on a Jack o'lantern
     designed jacklight
with superb vision,
     and supreme insight
steadily held above
     mine five feet and

     ten inches average height
espy spilling thru underneath
     securely eye
     booked deal lee shut tight
locked heavy metal doors,
     a faint glimmer
    sans gaslight
possibly from blaring,

     flashing, and placating
     television screen se
essentially keeping curmudgeonly
     aged residents company,
     while reminiscent nostalgic
     "FAKE" memories take flight
as such wistful
     foregone reflections

     upon the gift of
     a watermelon pickle excite,
viz the cobwebbed
     whirled wide
     give "tearful", though
     pained years gone by
     blinkered back teary delight
a hermetically sealed story,

     one will never
     get ghost written, nor
     affixed with a copyright
depressingly clamped
     down inescapable
     emotionally stagnating
     autobiographical blight.