The living room turns into a warzone
when the speakers utter sounds of conflict.
The rhythmic tapping of a control pad
like the beating of a war drum,
Soothes no soul in the midst of a battle cry.
Fighting with warriors, demons and puzzles alike,
these clicking noises echo all throughout the night.
We ride into battle as a lone gunslinger –
An unknown soldier amongst John Doe’s
with nothing to really fight for,
nothing to lose.
And so we sit in a yellow glow
with one light on in the corner,
Sheet blinds cover the windows.
A confused expression
switches between concentration
Glued to the screen for hours
and for ours
The sound comes from all angles,
onwards we roar into battle.
Kicking up a fuss to craft a high score,
mashing the buttons in frustration as we go.
Our friends are faceless, connected by cables.
Disembodied voices converse up and down the line.
On this battlefield, victory is ultimately hollow.
We bring home no spoils of war,
except that sense of achievement
pulsating from within.
Or perhaps a handcrafted trophy
made from atrophy, bleary eyes and
a spot on the couch.
War is never ending these days.
In the trenches, in the sitting rooms,
on the front line, on the screen.