Rent free

They move in without asking—  

the ex, the argument,  

that song you can’t remember  

but hum anyway.  

They lounge on your couch,  

feet on the coffee table,  

leave crumbs of memory  

everywhere.  

The brands love it.  

Their logos squat  

in the corners of your mind,  

whisper promises  

you didn’t ask to hear.  

Coca-Cola in your daydreams,  

Nike lacing up your anxieties.  

You should charge, really.  

Invoice the thoughts  

for their corporate tenancy—  

billboards in your sleep,  

ads stitched into your fears.  

Your mind’s a skyscraper,  

and everyone but you  

owns a floor.  

But the rent would come in slogans.  

“Live Your Best Life.”  

“Have It Your Way.”  

Nothing you can spend,  

just more noise to fill  

the spaces they leave  

when they finally move out.