Aubrey Phoenix

Sometimes I am aware of our societal programming.
I resist the mundane dance of living to work—
Far too often, I feel the worm in my head
influencing me
to spend,
to consume,
to want—
always wanting
to have someone,
to hold something,
to be someone.

Society is designed
to make us want
and to always feel like
we can never have enough,
we can never be satiated
with the faux comfort
of living the “dream” we bought without question.

The wanting is built in.
If we can never make enough money to survive,
how are we supposed to stop buying—
to feel satisfied?

Sometimes the only solace in this capitalist hellscape
seems to be an $8 coffee and a breakfast burrito,
or maybe something we think makes us more special—
authentic—
maybe something that means nothing,
but provides a nice boost of serotonin
and pads our shelves and walls,
creating some false sense of security.

This is all we know how to do.
It’s what we’ve been taught:
“Everyone does it.”

If you’re not wanting,
you must be doing it wrong.
There’s always the next big thing,
another corporate ladder to climb,
a fad diet to lose weight,
a family member to gain approval from.
It never ends.

I’m learning that this wanting
is programmed into us
not to genuinely improve our lives
but to improve the lives of others.

The more we buy,
the more money we give to giant corporations;
the more we strive to move up,
the more of our lives we give to The Man;
the more time we spend focused on losing weight,
the less we love and accept ourselves—
the less we buy their products.

Wanting is a losing battle.
No matter how much you
buy, move up, or change for others,
you will never be satisfied.

There is always something more expensive
mocking you from the store shelf.
There is always someone above you making more money,
refusing to retire.
There is always someone
with a slimmer waist receiving more patriarchal approval.

What do I catch myself doing in my free time?
Scrolling through online stores and Facebook Marketplace,
through endless aisles of people who are “happier,”
“healthier,” “wealthier,”
mocking us through blue-lit screens.

We’re searching hopelessly for something without a name,
because it’s undefinable.
Because it’s unattainable.

I want happiness—
well, what is happiness?
Being stable and successful.
Well, what does that mean?
Being able to afford where I live,
and work a job that brings me joy
while spending time with people that I love.

Does any of that sound like consumerism to you?

Aubrey Phoenix is a twenty-six-year-old nonbinary, neurodivergent, alternative artist struggling to survive in America—but surely not the only one. Raised in a self-help, toxically positive “it’s all in your head if you get sick” household, they hastened away from adolescence into adulthood, naively trusting that the world would welcome them on a path to their destined success. Their rose-tinted glasses shattered when their existence and truth proved time and time again to be something they would have to fight for. Their first book, All The Things I Left Unfinished, shares poems from some of their rawest moments of self-discovery—harrowing accounts of parental trauma, heartbreak, and struggles with bipolar II disorder in early adulthood. You can find more of Aubrey’s work on their website, aubreyphoenix.com.

This poem appeared in What We Hold On To: Poems of Coping, Connection, and Carrying On — Winter 2026, published by The Chaos Section Poetry Project. We’ll be featuring each poem from the collection individually in the weeks ahead. You can read the full collection or download a free PDF of the chapbook here.