The TV anchor

Who set the ideas on fire?
The television floods us with its din
It pours out its pixelated insults
In plated feelings
On the acidulous horizon of the evening
The storm is brewing, our words are darkening,
Let us shelter in the silence
This is the only asylum left open this late at night
The cathode ray tubes sputter
It is a spell of incantatory words,
Shameless violent deaths
The debates turn on themselves
Like an elegant top
The news anchor
Has the smile of a wasp in a jar
The sting of an evangelist threatened by God,
His words is a necklace of fire
Around the necks of honest citizens
And the steel pendant of time
Oxidizes in this ocean of dead ideas
The presenter bawls, the hatred flares up
The images remain engraved in our pupils,
Our eyes burn, our field of vision narrows
In the window of the department store
The televisions give voice
Our DNA mixes with pixels
And everywhere, criminals harass us
With their looped news stories
The storm of ideas is brewing —
Let’s take shelter in the silence,
This is the only asylum that stayed open this late at night

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