Couch

On my lounge I do recline, decline to activate.

In sloth I’m slung across its cushions, from 6pm til' late.

From there I access all the world, screens and chords entangle.

Not venturing beyond their bounds, my world is now rectangle.

Thick and comfy padding ensures posterioral-satisfaction,

My remote control and touch screen work my digits into action.

I can eat and sleep upon this isle, host any of my guests.

I’m loathe to leave to lavitate (though returning is the best).

Days and nights they come and go, through seasons warm and cold.

Although I’m quickly aging, this past time ne’er gets old.

If I could I’d never leave here, till all my days’ consumed.
I would. It’s good. I’m happy, in this so called “living room”.