I sit in a burning room
I sit in a burning room
I sit in the monotony that is my existence
I face a wall with a screen
Watching little fires everywhere
Always
Addicted to vicarious living
Can you call it living?
Filling the tedium of days and nights
Sloth wrapping me in its welcoming embrace
The screen acts as my window to the outside
But
I bathe in privilege
Able to face this wall
Able to shut off the noise on the screen
Unaware my curtains are up in flames
Because they haven’t reached me... yet
A flame will lick my wall
But nothing catches
So I go on sitting
After all
Why would I move for but a flicker?
It is only a warning, after all
God forbid what can’t reach me
What goes on outside these windows
The little fires I tune into
A highlight reel of someone’s reality
My wall muffles it all
A click of my screen shuts it all off
Their suffocated screams
Their pleas for eyes
Their begging for someone to listen
But my indolence blinds me from turning around
And I continue to sit in my burning room
Facing my wall
Mesmerized by my screen
In a world afire