Hark, The Angels Cry By Joshua Sushman My beautiful hair, My colorless T.V., And I perceive you apart of me. What is this? It�s a boy making strange faces in the dark, Is he insane? What does it mean. Hark, The angels cry, Death does not fear those who burn sage for God. And yes! And no, I soon discover myself making strange faces in the dark, Then I touch my hair to feel its grease, And I turn the channels to find only�three. You bastard you ****, My friend the drunk, Sometimes I wonder what you mean to me. And when I do this, The only thing we can do is watch the asteroids descend upon us. And after certain events I yell out, Death to the conglomerates! And all the children ask me, �What�s a conglomerate?� And I become angry, For I realize, And the boy in the dark ponders this before he dies.
