The News at Ten

News at ten:
I am hiding from the government,
In my own peculiar hole,
I am living from a box,
Stealing stamps (to write letters) for security,
Shaving my head and drowning in coffee.
If you see my face,
Updated at six,
I will be bearded and cold,
Around the back of a kitchen,
Flitting past your window

News at ten:
I am reading coded books again,
Translating words that never mean a thing,
From the backs of magazines,
From the clippings on my walls,
The print comes off with the wrinkles.
You may hear me breathe,
Standing for the night bus,
My eyes wild as cars speeding past streetlights,
I am gone when you turn,
A photofit shadow.

News at ten:
Rabbits turning up the earth again,
They are selling all the spies,
They crush my head for a candied treat.
I was caught 50 years from now,
I was caught spying for my head,
My fingerprints were lost in the post.

Updated story:
There is a clipping on my wall
Behind is a chip
Behind is a mike
Behind is a wall
Behind is a dumptruck, sending me out to sea.