The food had no flavor to it.
There must've been a spice somewhere
But all it did was sting her tongue.

There's noise, talking and television
And dog snores that she can't tune out
Even if it all blends together
Incoherently.

There's static in her brain,
On her palate,
In her ears.

And all the while she's screaming
While sitting silent in her chair.
Screaming in third person.
Screaming pretty words
Like a diary entry,
Saying, "O me, O my!
Look at these woes!"

Scorning those who build crosses to bear
When she's in the assembly line.
Hypocritical martyrdom.
Closet elitist.

Walking contradiction in every way.