Tapping a phone screen in a yellow room with white walls,
breathing in chemical solution from Tuesday's
mold treatment
The ham sits half eaten, half defrosted.
There are dead women in my head who despite being dead still haunt my soul with vindictiveness.
There is animal hair on the rug and amimal feces in the flower ***.
A horn sprouts up from behind the TV wall.
There is a percolating coldness and it falls over me with the understanding that there is no escape.
My car is in the junkyard, my money
is in a billionaire's pocket,
my sanity is squandered concentrating on vicarious social media delusion.
I am a modern day human and nothing is wrong here.