a generation dosed in hand sanitizer.
drugs to take for every tick we make.
and we label, label, we label.
my friends throw out their jackets when the lining rips.
the man at Upside Dive
sold me my purple peacoat half off,
we made the torn lining the silver, not the cloud.
what can i do but glamorize my poverty?
what can i do but glare quietly
rolling my eyes at the privileged.
counting my blessings and burnt-out hours.
i try to see freedom, not cannots,
trying not to define myself by what’s missing.
barter the world down to affordability.
living beyond my means.
