My Blaring Television Screen
Endless hours of (flat) screen time
Published in
Apr 1, 2024
I feel my brain rot,
Much like the food on my plate,
Much like the air in my room, stale,
Much like how I don’t know the date,
As I sit in front,
Of my blaring television screen.
I switch through channels, day and night,
From cooking shows to soap operas, damsels are saved by knights.
A comedy here, a reality show now,
An action film, a couple exchanges vows,
On my blaring television screen.
My hand remains glued to the remote,
My eyes to the digital slate.
Time’s of no matter in this state,
No hour is late enough to be too late.
I laugh when I’m made to,
I cry as well.
I don’t feel much on my own,
I am but an empty shell.
Reprogrammed to stay like a machine,
By my blaring television screen.
