Distant Living

I can resist being pushed into debt,
I am comfortable, each night
that I return to the warmth of my bed
where I have a choice of book to read
or an enquiring radio programme
to fall asleep to half way through,
and a diary in which record
my thoughts, dreams, and days.

Each day I eat my breakfast,
with the bad news of the day
the radio tells me, and I note
how much 'me' is part of 'media',
whilst wondering what to do after.

What happens between the morning
and the night is meant to be a life,
much of it is life according to the screen
I read, and compose from to write this.

Since the computer screen replaced television
I remain amazed at how well my days fill out,
with me so low on the world's priorities
whilst I live without companionship.

This is what 'my freedom' now consists of,
the freedom to age in comfort at home,
as part of a mass collective of indifference
connected  by how we are meant to care
when don't know what to say each other.