The Recluse

A poem from the depths of a dark, reclusive hole.

 

I don’t work, I don’t play.

I’m surrounded by screens; I’m surrounded by black.

I keep the blind shut all through the day,

But a social life I do not lack.

 

I have many friends from Chandler to Homer,

Walt to Tony.

I have my struggles of which I thought I was the owner,

But alas it seems my demons own me.

 

I’m dehydrated, I’m hungry,

But that all seems a world away.

It always seems grey even when it’s sunny,

So, this cosy dark room is where I will stay.

 

I may venture so far as another room in the house,

Only to cower to the darkest corner.

In this scary world I’m a tiny little mouse

So, I stay in my dark room and grieve like a mourner.

 

Over my life that is already hanging from the noose,

I’ve found most comfort as a recluse.