A rotting mouth and a sore ass,
A slouched back while passing gas.
A lit screen of endless colour,
Acting as an icecream parlour.
Attention is given without a thought,
A way to pass time is what he sought.
All the while, he was wasting his time,
Assuming his life, was worth just a dime.
All the people around him, speed right on,
As if his whole life, had just gone.
A cobweb sways in the corner of his room,
All because he's too lazy, to grab a broom.
At last the day has come to an end,
Arms in the air and trying to bend.
A poem he writes, while tucked in bed,
About the day, that he seemed dead.