Wire-less

When the Internet connection failed me I couldn't rely on my DVD player, which couldn't play my scratched DVDs, and I had to give up on my scrambled cable, especially with nothing on the basic channels, no new news, and radio stations that could only play songs that talked about losing it all, similar to the books on my nightstand that read you to sleep, which was all my skunked beer was good for, no taste, similar to the cloths in my closet which weren't that dramatic, no flare, and the music on my mp3 that didn't really have anything to say, and the cell phone with no one to call because everyone was asleep and no text messages received from those same asleep people, or my girlfriend who is cranky and doesn't want to talk, or my lazy guitar with two snapped strings, wire less, or my pornography that has unappealing women, or soccer magazines with washed-up stars who looked like they've been walking for about 1,000 years, like my running shoes which were falling apart and teetering, unuseful, especially when it's cold and all I have is undramatic cloths, no thermal underwear, and my mind was teetering, like my roommate playing his game of poker, all in, like my life in this life on this craziest world, the craziest that I'd ever seen.