A blank stare
from the corner
threatens to steal away
time and space and thoughts.
lights down below
mark out a flickering landing strip
urging you “green for go”,
demanding that one arrives
upon terrifyingly visual,
dazzled by choice.
Sometimes I struggle to return your gaze.
Swathed in the black fabric
between meal times
and alone times,
stuttering to life in an array of colours,
waiting to trap the attention
by eeking the inspiration I care to find.
Flat front face with a ridged hunchback,
you are Quasimodo in reverse:
with a grotesque cowardly heart,
and other times I just can’t resist
as I reach for your remote control
to procrastinate a little more.