Intrinsic

Staring at the phone’s unlit unlight of unuse:
a choice between the girl I have fallen for
and the fallen world into which I have fallen.
Scared to death I will die in .016 minutes:
ruddy entering my blue carpet’s world,
foreign as a meteorite shower splashing the sea.
Running through the house with all flopping uncaringly:
dropping laundry, soiled underwear falls;
exposed by my cloth; weak and doubtful.
I itch, scratch my hurried hairy head:
deciding I have not decided but accepted,
exhaling, reclining in my chilled leather chair.
My screen is wider than its fourteen inch glass:
but grant no insult immunity, words like liquid nitrogen at 20 K,
I’m OK though, broadcasting beyond me.