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.