by John Kendall Hawkins
The Couch Potatoes were growing new eyes,
playing G.O.D. on the smart TV,
turn the world into a monstrosity,
extra points for sobs, megapoints for sighs.
They'd hacked a fresh mind right after breakfast.
Tony had the target apoplectic --
he fought the force and tried to reject it;
Finally he broke, wore their necklace.
Tony soon tired of cracking single eggs.
Lefties were easy, but Tony was bored.
He ached for a transformative smorgasbord
of Greens and Hams he could knock down some pegs.
They sit there humorless, grapes of wrath,
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