i have the feeling of taste, my disease to keep me company and that voice to keep me warm.
a hundred thousand illusions just waiting to be created.

i have plants that feed off whispers and tears.
some pictures of him, her perfume in a bottle, stuffed animals that speak and listen.

there are humans inside a box i can turn on and off.
lives i can read and make friends with.

i have memories of better days, and some words he spared me earlier.





and yet i freeze.