The Dawson's Creek Syndrome

The hazy mass of pregnant skies
Above my head, no more lies
No more worries, no more ill
Down in one, swallow that pill

The skies start throbbing
Pulsating with a spasmodic sting
Which hurts the eye and trips the brain
Feeling like im superficially sane

Over easy or sunny side up?
Try to go far but don't push your luck
We want you to succeed but not too much
Find a god, you'll need a crutch

The telly rapes u with somebody else's seed
A mass of class, colour and creed
All blend to one in this foul scene
Of telly watching,so obscene

Kill me now or turn off the power
Or I'll be leaving in a bloody shower
Of brains and skull against the wall
Speckling the paper in a urgent scrawl

For the dawnsons creek syndrome is rife
People adding storylines to their life
And messing up the people they need most
Till their true self, is but a ghost