it started with one

a replacement

something old

with something new

something better

something intelligent

and i felt comfortable

i could rely, depend

on this one change

then it was another one

and still i was calm

content to comply

happy to oblige

what’s one more?

three more rearranged

i started feeling cramped

was it the cold steel

against my wooden walls

was it the monotone voice

replacing the laughter

of my children?

2 years and 7 more improvements

i feel like im in a dome

an echo chamber

but i can’t seem to hear my own voice

and when i do

it comes out ragged

and emotionless

my car’s stopped working

i’ve no use for it any longer

no where to go when all i need is here

at least that’s what they’ve told me

the throat stuffers

and my first-born

15 years and there’s nothing left

actually i have everything

and nothing all together

grey litters my home

and it’s infected my bones

when i die let me rest

with the gardens

that once bloomed

years before we chose the color of nature based on an impossible aesthetic.