The comfort room

They can’t harm you
Locked in this chair
The TV blares in the background
Like it is your friend
The two dimensional connection
It’s almost like they’re looking at you
Outside this room
Where the skin gets peeled
Nobody licks your wounds
They look right through you
On their way to their next appointment
Your blood marks their shoes
But still they don’t know you
So where do you find the hand
The promise that this is not a bad joke
That you are not just dark space
The phone rings
Somebody wants to sell you something
You tell them that they’re voice doesn’t matter
That you can’t really feel them
That you can’t buy whatever it is
They’re selling