channels

channels penetrated into my bedroom
while I was asleep
the anchors  searched into my library and shelves
disappointed, they tried to enter into my cell phone
they went on searching
how screeches emanate from invisible hoods
who sleeps on my bed,
my self or my substitute?
they smoked their brains to have an answe.
somewhere along my slumber lashes,
is there a clicking of the eyes?
is snoring possible after a love-packed shred of time?
they photographed  the dances of the wind outside
on my flowery trees
the channels that were not ready to go away
without any scoop
took the snow book I left reading on my chest
they decided upon broadcasting
the music emerging after snow melts.
in the hot seasons
when cool and water were impossible
they were seeking an entrance to my heart.