Binge-watching

a terza rima

Our senses one by one we strive to glut
As though excess alone could make us feel.
So gorge we greedily to pad our gut

Or drink as if some awful wound to heal.
Then, envious of other sense, the eyes
Demand their due and stare, with fervent zeal

At flick’ring screens, both large and small in size
To binge-watch all our precious TV shows—
Meanwhile a little something in us dies.

So every act shall harvest what it sows.