He’s An Old Television

He’s an old television.

He’s an old television.

He’s an old television.

He has tried to fix his aerial, bend this way and that way. All I can see is black and white pixilation, disturbed images.

He has tried to show me how he feels, what’s going on, but in his confusion he flicks from channel to channel and all I hear is white noise.

He says he just can’t get reception.

He’s losing reception, losing contact with reality, losing connection.

I want him to stop flicking through the channels trying to show me everything that he thinks I want to see.

I want to know what’s going on deeper, amongst the cables and connections inside of him.

He’s an old television.

He’s obsolete, a worn and torn ornament, sitting upon a shelf, unable to recapture the remote control of his own life.

He still has many dials that can be turned and turned and turned, and knobs which can be switched and flicked but pressing his buttons does not elicit the same reaction it once did.

He’s losing reception. He’s losing contact with reality. The image of his world is blurry, pixilated, colourless. That’s how he views the world: broken.

He’s trapped himself inside of four walls of his mind, boxed in. He’s lost perspective, he has one lens and though it may be large it is concave, skewed, without technicolour and high definition.

He’s an old television.

He’s an old television set.

He’s an old television set in his ways.

The kind you buy that lasts two decades and just keeps on longer and longer, sitting with you, waiting on a stand, taking his last stand, waiting for someone to use his own remote control on himself so he does not have to think, how; to act, what; to show, feelings; to tell, words.

He is an old television and he only speaks the words of other people and those people are actors, reciting scripted rhetoric. They are not his words. They are not representing his perspective, his values. He’s overcome with channels, trying to funnel everyone’s drabble.

He’s an old television.

He has lost his vision.


Thanks to Rudolf Ammann for the use of your pic from Flickr.