spent poem at 3:04 a.m., no caps

Radiation from the screen throbs my head:
a sitting zombie, the woken dead-
never thought about making bread, instead
thinking about the mash-ups in my dread
pulling peter won't take this night away:
whether its pos or cause, yea or nay
just want a soothing place to stay
while i keep pouring out what i must say
if i were canadian, the next word' be "eh"
but being born in the u.s.a
dissuades examination of the now, today,
two sides decomposing 'til decay.
i suppose its always been this way
i suppose its always been this way