House of objects

Carpet
Everything wrapped in plastic
Plastic cases
Plastic shells
The flicker of the television on my mother’s face
Furniture
Stairs
A piano
My piano
My clothes on the floor
All manner of things on the wall
Ah it’s my teenage years
I wonder what they’re doing here
Meaningless now
As meaningless as everything else
Dead memories
Like information stored in a machine
That is what surviving has become
A machine