Pixelated screens, heavily smoked.
The walls I face – pale blue, pale grey.
No complaints about the chair I rode,
just the dread of death’s timely arrival for slay.
The word ‘face’ looks so very alike to ‘facade’.
Everything in black and white,
(even) everything already blurry starts to fade.
They do not go out of sight
nor out of mind. Entrapped, put
us on replay mode.
Then let us don on our best suit –
for it is clear, the conduct code.