Flashback poem - too much time

Tinted windows
bar my cage
I sit, ensconced in cushioned swivel chair

internalising rage
Against the perfect day, I can see emblazed 

in polarised technicolour glory
as I age my way through another sorry weekly working day

Mind … I would only waste it if were free
Curled with book in bed
Or watching TV

And what does that say about me?
When I don’t choose to be outside when I could be
Instead stewing in juicy daily envy

Do I only have a limited supply of outdoorsy urges?
That whining so easily purges?

Or is it some devious defence mechanism to distract
From what isn’t even a daily grind, but just lack
Of interest and ambition
To contribute! change the world! 

for the better of men, women and children
guilt redirected from dwelling
on slack humanitarian drive
into wistful sighs over potential frolics outside