pillow proletariat

once, i would build fortresses, defiant against the encroaching void while this bulldozer world spun tales of efficiency and enterprise outside each was a shattered echo of fort parliaments, where decrees were spun from the silk of imagination, not drawn from the blood of profit. now, we trade the visceral for the virtual, bartering away the tactile joys of pillow forts for digital castles in the air, pixelated and ephemeral. and we drown out the lullabies once sung by mothers to listen to the hum of machines, in this age where dreams are barcoded, packaged neatly between convenience and decay. but i am still guarding the ghost of my fort, beneath the weight of the world’s weariness.