resting, coiled energy surging through the stationary wood
force is pressed to the back rest,
a deep turquoise, dotted with a glorious display of last meals
to swing the chair back, balancing on the small sweet spot
the cushion comfortably supports you
like a flexible branch, tempting your leafy green to the greedy wind
not too hard, not too soft
a sanctuary for mediocrity with just a hint of fashion
it simultaneously represents obesity and comfort
the sharp juxtaposition of sluggish and commonplace
why does anyone have chairs?
is it possible it's because there is an expectation for comfort?
no one told you to make yourself at home
and no one told you you could have whatever you wanted
and yet you expect that dark teal, four-legged representation of laziness
to hold you for five hours while you waste your life away staring at a screen
I like the voice and commentary in the last stanza. If you want to go further with this, you're probably overusing adverbs and adjectives through the front of the poem instead of letting your verbs/concrete details do the work.
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