We wanted Less

We wanted less.  Less space, less money, we wanted to pay more money for less space.  We didn’t want windows, we wanted believers.  We wanted green spaces for children in cities and we wanted poets who wrote about death and died young.  We wanted 168s on the LSAT.  We wanted uncertainty; when was trash day? How long did it take for chicken to spoil in the fridge?  We wanted innocence again.  We wanted to be innocent again.  We got promotions, got published. It wasn’t enough.  We wanted more.  We gave away our fingers digit by digit and put our toenails on layaway.  We made a bonfire of our dreams.  We touched the walls and realized they were inching ever closer.  We stopped doing dishes, castrated ourselves with 4k resolution porn.  Wrote poetry without pronouns, we read Kafka to each other.  We spent our lives parting in subway stations, promising to write.  And write we did.