Thinking Inside The Box

Sight. Sound. Scent. Taste. Touch. Livid with uncertainty, Darting one way then the other, Ambiguous decisions concern the orbs. Blindness hinders the eyes. There is no sight. A whistle blows, The wind howls, Sounds are emitted through the deserted streets. Deafness enters the ears. There is no sound. Smoke looms in the middle of the night, Wafting to the nearby noses. The scents of everyday life greet the bystander. Anosmia mutates the sense of smell. There is no scent. Sips of the late evening coffee, Bites of the bakery's fresh bread, Taste sensations pleasantly spark in the mouth. Everything begins to lose flavor. There is no taste. A cold breeze tickles the skin, Asphalt roughly brushes bare feet. Fingertips distinguish differing textures. Numbness pervades the body. There is no touch. There is ignorance; Indolence controls actions. Humanity thrives on the here and now, Slipping into the habitual subconscious of the asinine generation. Consumed in a world of our own, Trapped inside a box. The outside world continues on, With the pitying ticks of a clock. Dead end. Closed mind. Shut off. Like a key without a lock, A door without a handle, A storm without the rain, And a light without a candle. Young or old, Married or single, Adolescence or adulthood, All senses lost. The rapidly changing outside world is meaningless; empty. Absorbed with the lives inside their utopic container, Each remains imprisoned within the glass walls of their life. All that matters must be what humanity has shoved inside the confines of their little box.