Within the lounge
A sandbank in place of a sofa
The flicker of the t.v the only light
A shovel to mound the sand
To find comfort
In the thick of selfishness
To find oneself
Those tiny grains scratching skin
Weeks and months droop
The sand is filthy
The t.v flickers
Laughter overpowering the chest
The sound of it absorbed into the sand
The volume the t.v turned down
To focus on each burst of laughter
Legs and stomach submerged in the dirty sand
It seems we sink into the ghastliest of our habits
The t.v vibrates light giving long speeches in flashes
But eyes cannot see for the body is below sand
Starving for air
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