Late Night TV

I can’t escape it.
The screen—glowing, cold—
stares at me, mocking.
They’re talking to me,
I swear they are.
That local news anchor,
all bright teeth and pressed suit,
she’s smiling,
right at me.
"Breaking news," she says,
"Tonight’s top story…"
She pauses.
Wait—
What do you know about me?
Is that a glance to the left?
The nod?
What are you implying?
What’s in the report?

I press the remote,
switch to another channel—
a world news anchor now,
her voice smooth,
almost too smooth.
Her eyes narrow,
like she’s reading my thoughts.
"They’re watching," she whispers,
"Everyone’s watching."
I freeze.
What have I done?
What are you accusing me of?
Who’s behind this?

Switch again—
The meteorologist.
He stands before a map,
his hands sweeping through the weather,
tornadoes twisting,
clouds crashing into my face.
His smile, too wide,
like he knows something I don’t.
"The pressure’s rising," he says,
"Do you feel that?"
The storm’s coming,
but it’s already here, isn’t it?
A tempest of eyes,
and they’re all on me.

Switch again—
The sports commentators.
Three voices,
layered, overlapping—
"He’s finished," the first one says,
"They’ve seen enough," the second chimes in,
"Where did they find this guy?"
The third adds,
"He’s done, no hope for a comeback."
They’re talking about athletes,
aren’t they?
But why does it feel like they’re talking about me?
Is this my final moment?
Am I the one they’ve written off?
Time’s running out.
What did I do to deserve this?

Another switch—
Late-night talk show now.
The host,
too much grin,
too many jokes,
and all of them pointed at me.
He leans forward,
eyes gleaming.
"What did you think this was?"
He waves his hand dismissively.
"You thought you could escape,
but I’m everywhere."
His laugh—
it doesn’t reach his eyes.
It’s for me.
How does he know?

The lights flicker.
The leather couch creaks.
I press mute.
Turn it off.
But…
is that laughter?
Behind the walls?
Or is it in my head?

I look around.
I’m still here.
But they’re watching, aren’t they?
They hear everything.
They know everything.

The walls are closing in.
Where do I go?
Where do I hide?

For the love of God—
Is there no escaping this?