A disquieting abyss of technicolor
Projected by a thin glass veil
I stare at tiny characters telling the irony of my existance through a satyrical prose
Cleverly sewn scene to gain my relation, and trust
Draining hours into a small box fixed with an alluring promise of mindless droning comfort
No need to think
No need to feel
Constantly comparing and competing against myself
To a false societal appeal
Of how life should be
And would be-
If only I could tear my eyes away long enough
And discontinue breathing this stale air
But when Revolution can come already prepackaged and tucked away from danger,
Inside a miserable little box
It seems ludicrous to soil my hands and risk discontentment
When all I have to do is stay behind the screen and watch