Anxiety gnaws at the walls...
tearing at the black, blue, and yellow wallpaper.
The blasts pick up...
hovering shelves filled with knickknacks befall,
crushed as the hurricane begins.
Journals and notebooks strip themselves...
rippling throughout the chamber.
Jars filled with captured memories, moments, litter the floor
...erratic hops around bonfires
...flower wreaths
...crystal giggles piercing the atmosphere
all become mundane puzzle pieces scattering the ground.

And I rock back and forth in the middle...
what worse penitentiary, then your own thoughts.

I thought growing up was easier?
Fake smiles as currency
chipping away at our humane shield.

I guess it can seem easy to some, right?
The never-ending cycle
of do great things, sometimes not great things, and be rewarded.

But why?
They say be yourself, and unique, and embrace
but criticize for being themselves, being different, and being proud.

Do they purposefully maneuver us into corners?
Oh well
A miniature Ferris wheel can't be that bad.

You entered my life at a weird point.
You.
with golden eyes, dimpled smiles, and scars across your existence.
You.
who gave me love and attention and hope.
You.
who became my yellow, my lobster, and my human.

You slipped so many things into my mind at one point.
You.
with calculating gazes, stern lips, and viscid hands.
You.
who gave me bedtimes, rules, and regulations.

Then there is me in a frozen state of confusion.
Me.
with a necklace of purple, blue, and yellow.
Me.
with dilated pupils and flushed cheeks and apprehensive chuckles.
Me.
with skepticism, adoration, and dedication.

Us.
Broken.
Turbulent.
Lethal.

The moment our eyes met,
I knew it was all over.
There would be stolen moments,
you and me trying to keep our composure.

Hands grazing before last check.
Hazy, euphoric gasps before rays touch our own little wreck.

How exactly were we suppose to overcome our transgressions?
They locked me in a hell.
Surrounded by my hearts obsessions.
At the end of the day, I think its all well.

Tap Tap Tap...
      a frown from the left and she is hiding her hand wrapped around an amber pen.
Thump Thump Thump...
     an irritated librarian leans lower on her desk and glowers, ensuring her feet become tucked tightly together.
Sad sigh...
     and now she is murmuring to herself. The boy with the band tee, blazing, and burning the world did not show.