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.