In moments alone
I am prone
To checking my phone
I am a drone

I remember before
Before the screen
I’d lie on the floor
And check in on my dreams

I’d stare at the ceiling and scroll through my mind
I’d feel the cold floor, be a body,  defined.

Ideas would spring out and say hi and swirl round
Some would descend back down through the ground
Some became things or friendships or movements
Some became small but important improvements.

Now I scroll through a feed of every idea
Feeling unworthy to own my own
Feeling low down and no good and unfun
Feeling most likely like everyone.

October 2021