For centuries or so it seems,
(interminable quarantine!)
From dusk to dawn and in between
I’m staring inches from a screen.

Each cluttered area I’ve cleaned;
From human contact I’ve been weaned
My eyes are hollow, like some fiend
From staring inches from a screen.

Last night I had this ghastly dream:
In Geographic magazine–
My carcass, dried out and pristine,
staring inches from a screen.