The home of my mind

Dear webkin,

How are you faring in this digital city? After over fifteen years of living in this bleak corner, among the walking dead, I remain an outsider. A transient with neither a shadow to boast of nor possession to uphold my dignity. I am a disposable asset that was given an ID.

✔ Education is stolen learning.
✔ Labor is oppressive of work.
✔ Privacy is an inside joke.
✔ Home is unwelcome.

My temporary shelter is comfort in the form of a prison cell. In my sleeplessness, I dream of somebody to take me to their home planet. After all, nothing in my skin could prove I am worthy of a place in this vanity box they call "home".

 ✔ My home lives elsewhere. 


Literally ❝ Lila





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