This living room is a black hole of time.
The TV burns at 200 degrees Fahrenheit
waving heat into the eyes.
Mutant static grows and hollows the ears
With a burning sensation on the upper-inner nose.
The smell of leaking electricity is counterbalanced by gravity,
Sinking into the cushions
and free to watch James Corden sing down the streets of Los Angeles.
This living room is a supernova of wonders.
Taste the vivid colors of commercial breaks,
Neon red on white and sunset chrome
and news Twittered into fragments of speech.
The presence of possibility is the reason for it,
and electrons assemble here
“Geico could save you 15% on...well, you know.
Lone enjoyment is the parody of the universe.
But then, what is parody of parody?
The infinity draws itself into the black box
and is encased in glass.
The wire-charged prison of infinite possibilities
holds the watcher in its grasp,
As the watcher drinks their fill of the colors of everyone’s lives,
Slipping into their bodies but finding the skull
Just a bit too loose.
Every step will be a concussion, every word a shining monstrosity.
The crowd is not a skeleton; it is made of skeletons
Exchanging their bones until they can say
“I win,” and smile forever.
Life is the art of suffering, and those who suffer will have the most art,
and those who seek suffering
are mostly dead.
To enjoy it, remove the skeleton and watch the skull grin
In your own personal Schadenfreude.
Electricity spreads out from the TV and walks
seductively, and changing rapidly - for that is the seduction - towards the watcher.
This living room is an infinity of matter, all sucked into a black hole
and set ablaze with electronegative particles.