The dogs are barking across the street
and the dogs across the street are always barking,
since I was old enough to remember

The phone in my hand feels like the death
of freedom of thought,
and as soon as this thought crosses my mind
I feel like an old man in a tin foil hat
My room has walls made out of
mattresses with no sheets and screens
that shine dim blue light through all 24 hours

I am Mildred in another dystopian novel
and I can't stop the pages from turning
there are pills on the counter that turn my tongue
yellow, then blue
and a strange machine pumps air into me
to replace the smoke in my lungs

My sister smiles at me
but she doesn't unblock me on Instagram
My sister who I shared a blanket with
My sister who I shared a bed with
while she whispered stories
she'd made up in the dark

Dopamine deficiency and the consumption
never ends,
mindless, blank eyes set into my head
staring at my brain like it's a foreign organism