Dying Soon In The Living Room Poem by Tyrone Gayle

I wish he could say, 'I rather watch the trees breathe,
Than sit on my couch in my living room and watch the TV'
It's strange, they call it a living room but whenever he's in it,
His eyes and limbs don't move, it's the opposite.

He is the one with remote but not the one with the control,
It's quite slim yet it overpowers him like a man troll,
He's not scared! He believes it is the best way to bring forth gold,
In his head, brain cells are freezing for his choices are north pole.

He abuses it, even a cheerleader knows when to put away the pom pom,
But no, not this bro, many late nights have evolved into early mornings,
His oblivious hate for the buzzing of the last letter is a loud time bomb,
Who cares? Not him, he puts his feet up and scorns the warnings,

So he keeps sinking his teeth I suppose he swore yes like a uruguayan,
I wonder if he understands the quote, 'Never wake a sleeping lion'
He should have put an end to it in 2012 like a mayan,
Negative, he's still in his spot in the living room, suffocating his mind, dying!

I know, for I am next to his window,21 meters away, standing constantly,
I am not a stalker, to be real, I am famous, Jesus cursed yours truly,
Hmn, only if this potato spoke my language, he could turn me backwards and add a T,
And before you misconstrue, read my dry brown lips, 'I am a tree.'