My heart swells at the at the sound of music
Put it on and I fall in love,
just for those four or five minutes
Rock courses through the veins
Lo-fi beats helps to settle one down
Classical, purely timeless
Rap sticks to the modern
Country is a bitter pill
Bluegrass gets the kids kicking
Merengue for fast lovers
Bachata for los viejitos that love slowly
Drown out the world with sixteenth notes, codas, beeps, and bloops
Learn about people through how they step
Rhythmically wiggle, a shake
All of this melodic noise to keep us going
It tells us you are going to make it.

Here is where I met you, in our space, in our sphere,
but I appropriated it from you, didn’t I?
You liked to stand near the pungent water pipe behind the building
Just under the flickering neon.
Here is where I witnessed a whirlwind in still life, careful but creepily
Analyzing your ways.
You are something dangerous but sparkling, something I should not need
but alas, here we are.
Here is where you stand and look straight ahead, boring into my eyes. Your voice, melodic,
distant, tinged with some almond liqueur
‘I’m not yours’
You do not know that, do not worsen the dragging of life, please.
There is a coppery, slick taste on my tongue, you do not know.
Here is where you stood but now you are gone.

Dimetapp all glistening cherry,
Flonase with its vibrant green cap,
Day old Campbell’s chicken noodle soup,
Scattered unripe oranges over the counter,
How many days can a person lay sick?
Cold mug of coffee with almond milk inclusions,
Watered down yellow stained tissues,
Eucalyptus tinted steam clouds from the humidifier,
Muted television talking heads spouting delusions,
The ragged edges of a quilt around the shoulders,
Enigmatic envelopes with bills within,
Perhaps someday they’ll see the light,
Forks in occultic formation,
Spoons in opposition of the forks,
Bamboo shoots staring from above,
Blush Yankee Candles cower,
I’ve been sitting here for over an hour,
Watching these objects has made me grow sour,
After all, there is not much to do in a fever dream,
So I will just stare, sniffle, and drink my cold coffee with cream.

At one, the concept of a bed is not quite there yet, but comfort never leaves
At three, one toddles into the sheets of their parents with no intention of sharing
At five, one begins to dread getting up for school
At seven, friends get one through the morning
At nine, one still complains about waking up so early
At eleven, minds begin to change
At thirteen, one lays in bed during the morning in a cloud of self-consciousness
At fifteen, one tosses and turns with thoughts of homework and that cute girl at lunch
At seventeen, one stares at the popcorn ceiling contemplating the future, threads of some unknowable as heavy as lead intertwining the possibilities
At nineteen, one can bend under the burdensome troubles and be sequestered to their comfort at home
Or lift the hulking sheets, Atlas, and go on. Go on to the complex, enigmatic world and return when one is done.

A child. An only child.
A child of the internet.
Raised on flashing images, raised on gorging down content.
Know the best and worst and most obscure video games right off the tip of your head.
Feel soothed by a streamer’s voice, get influenced by a community’s humor, find a niche, burrow in it.
Not many friends, but they raised you, made you feel not so alone, which you are, physically, mentally.
Stay up for hours, muted television, bright laptop screen.
They say blue light’s bad for the eyes, bad for circadian rhythms, let’s test out that theory.
There goes your role model, the one you want to meet desperately, dying over and over in some badly designed game.
No more anxiety, just the game.
No more life, just the stream.

Stop
Take a look, just for a moment, go on do it
What do you see?
No, do not say ‘me’
How about that weeping man?
Who claimed to always have a plan
Now look over at that young couple
They’re recently engaged
You can see the sparkles in their eyes and their glittering diamonds
In a time not too long ago that would’ve been impossible, right?
Don’t forget the shouting children
They run and run
But not from their problems, no
They do it for fun
Do you see what I mean?
All of these complex human beings, walking around
Just existing, like you and me
Breathing and feeling
Like you and me