A sonnet for entertainment junkies.
I sold my soul without a price today
That I to entertainment could be wed.
To flee from work and live alone in play
Required that I render conscience dead.
It wasn’t hard at all to suffocate
My moral mind with titivated rot,
For all I had to do was gently sate
My thirst for purpose with a well-spun plot.
At first it seemed it always needed more:
A bit more tension, more excitement; thrill!
But as it died, the boring ceased to bore
And I was gaily freed from all my will.
I am now just a body and a brain
And seek no greater end than fleeing pain.
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