Bedbugs XVII

Bedbugs XVII




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Locking myself up won't change what's in my head and
it still leads back to the same place, horns that sound
like no other statement in mind still return to the same state.
Still not caring how many shades of red managed to impress
drunken staff members. The best advice is to tell
them you'll run. Celebration from the three of them which
are rendered as emotions, not people. Joy handed out
in healthy rations still bring a lingering nasty thought:
I didn't earn it, it was given to me.
The pills arrived yesterday. Family dove into them, I
went for a drive instead. Had a new coat of
mental paint applied. I chose the color
and texture and amount. All are desperate
to choose for me; comes up to the waist, their pile
of complaints. Silence between sounds is a
rarity I savor, far more refreshing
to seek those out.
The theater was empty as I suspected, save one
figure on the stage with its back
turned to me. Leaves too much room to let other
things in, and the floor is slick with leaves and metal
shavings and a lack of anything inspiring passion. Outside
is much better but nobody's out there..wait-clouds gathering
into a face's shape..




Next week's seven phrases/groups of words:

-shining through to the skin
-broken patch of interest
-scare me again outside
-sick of the loop
-worse when it's your fault, she says
-surgery you can bring a friend to
-stuck in the same state

-adam