Endlessly, I receive
hostile letters
from my phone screen.

"Your face is
incomplete. Here is
a machine's face
with three red dots.
Horrible. Eradicate
acne by
eradicating
your face.
Completion
is a furnace."

Then, another
stalker's note.

"Your soul is
unfinished. Try
ketamine
today."

We are hooked
on same-day shipping.
We bow
to gold leaf statues
while our lungs melt.
We choke blue
and light the furnace
to fix our skins.

And I keep scrolling,
filling
the mailbox.