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with lines by BTS
I have an obsession with capitalism: big house,
big cars, big rings. Someone who has accomplished
everything. I consider myself the successful
daughter. On days like this, I spend hours admiring
myself in the mirror, fully rigged. My reflection
silver-singed even with the lights off. I feel like
I’m floating, eyes spinning in this fabulous space.
There’s a salesman at the door who wants to sell me
my own house. Everything would work out when
I open that door. Again and again, I inhale
the scent of copper coins, savor it like incense. Let
me make a small confession, whatever I fill becomes
emptier. Like how I tried to swallow the world
in its whole but ended up with an empty investment.
Once, I saw the ocean before I opened this door
and that made me feel rich in landlocked property.
The waves fluctuating like the curvature of sin.
I chant stories of how capitalism saved the whales,
a currency in itself. The whole world is my home,
slick with greed. I feel lonelier and completely shabby.
The mechanism of my daughterhood gone awry.
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