I've passed the disenchanted one, in the empty hallway
I've heard the isolated girl, arguing in the mirror
I've seen the angry hermit girl reflected in the toaster
I've noticed the crazy girl, crying in the shower
I've enjoyed the whispers of the poet talking to herself
Her latest performance had the largest audience yet
the flowers were captivated but the cat left unimpressed

my life is full of learning, but I want more than learning.
I want more than silly things, but I want silly things.
I want more than this - viral incompleteness - with its worsening unease.
I want more than forever being enslaved to safe hospitality like astronauts in space.
We control heat with air conditioning - gravity with jets and communicate via satellites.
There’s nothing I can really do but trust in science, and patiently hope.
My wants may shine valuable, like silver, but they are, in reality, worthless tin.

Trapped like Napoleon on Elba, cursing himself 300 straight nights.
There's no escape from MY desolate coast so I longingly wait nights.
The moon comes and goes on restless, disenchanted, chaste nights.
Will I be an old maid before the next dear and playful date night?

I’m daughtering in place and it’s a full time job.
I'm a posable figurine, like a Barbie for my mom.
She's been shopping in a frenzy, to fill the empty hours.
I think we have an Amazon truck dedicated to our house.
I needed another closet so we took my sister's room
It looks like a Dior outlet-store or maybe King Tut's tomb.
"I think you've gotten carried away," I said to her last night.
Looking at all the loot arranged, she said, "you may be right."

I am
fermenting in tedium
emotionally over-reactive
frequently inappropriate
irresponsible but trustworthy
discontentedly powerless
and frequently overwhelmed.

Oh, absent one, I miss you.
Darling, an empty place awaits you.
Thrushes chirp their dissatisfaction in
the garden as I doze with boredom.
I send my well wishes from a distance.

Oh, absent one, my digital ghost.
You're here when I call but not here.
I brush my hair with discontent, I
eat bitter, lonely meals to stay alive.
I send my love from a distance.

Nowadays I wake up hoping for the unpredictable - the novel.
When I open my eyes the angel of death isn’t out to get me.
Then - I remember - we’re at war and practicing subterfuge -
that measured trade-off between safety and despair.
So I move to my patterned routines - I dust my unused lips.
I check the level of my virtuous thoughts - hhmm.. getting low.
And I prepare the clever inventions that allow us to simulate life.

Depression manifested by isolation

Communication is more important than ever these days so how I do I tell you that I wanna run away?

Change my name and get a new look because I’ve been locked in this cage for over 96 days.

It’s summertime and the living isn’t easy.

LIVING
             ISN’T
                       EASY.