The Plant Room
quarantine is romanticising isolation
a concept of mindless daily living
trapped in a box with microorganisms
that bite and bruise indoor plants
the way silence eats at your mind
the way the flowers on my desk
have started to wilt but are still alive
I feel trapped like there’s a rope tying me
close to the ribs that sucks out the air
that I’m trying to breathe but its poison
lures in the corners of my prison cell
and if I escape, I’ll most surely die
