We sit in front of that cyclopean god,
Eyes splayed as it preaches before us,
Beaming images of approved messaging,
Vacuous reality TV and tedious gameshows,
Distractions on every channel,

We sit forearms exposed to the idiot box,
Drips from screen to vein,
Replete with foul tawny liquid,
Ichorous refuse made of those selfsame pixels,
Sickening anaesthetic for the agony we witness,

As we drool in our armchairs,
Our eyes develop red sheen,
Our wallets are unceremoniously sapped,
And the real world slowly rots,
Through a window neglected.

  1. Cassa Bassa says:

    Vow to the idiot box!

  2. shauna says:

    “Idiot box!” My mother also called it the “boob tube”. Not referring to anatomy, but an old term for someone who is not so smart…

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