here i sit, staring idly at the objects surrounding me:
the computer screen filtering in and out of focus
in the foreground of my mind’s i. nothing but static.
lose all agency, answer only to the mechanical
monster—that crying baby begging to be fed:
its rows of red eyes blinking blindly
back and forth. my fingertips dart across its face
try to gouge them out, if only for a moment
of peace and quiet. classical melodies
rumored to improve artificial intelligence
float overhead like lazy clouds, climbing to crescendos
amid crystal chandeliers, and I count
fluorescent fixtures instead of stars.
here, time is measured in drips of coffee,
sip slowly and kill the pain,
stains seeping onto my buttoned blouse
like spreading blood. sweat and tears
wiped away with the back of a blistered hand
and i smile and say “good morning”,
not because you make me
but because i make myself.
though no one really
hears it in my voice.
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