Busy, busy.

The television,

chameleon of the living room

invades my life again,

a cancer of shape-shifting shadows

without substance,

only as real as this life

I allow myself to lead.

Outside,

swallows like stenciled shadows,

race from morsel to morsel,

keeping the sky clear,

while oblivious to what scurries below.

Like ants we work, competing

with each other, over discarded spoils.

Living earth is paved over by greed

for increased efficiency;

an efficiency that delivers us time

we need to methodically waste.

Hopelessess is avoided

by the silliness of sheep;

constant grazing, and making sure

there is no time for rest.

©niall oconnor 2014