I can see commercials on a rounded screen
--of beaches and hourglasses.
I look around, but my eyes stop at certain parts
of the dim room.
The sunshine pouring through the window is ***** and beautiful.
It's just like an old photograph,
low quality and burnt orange at the edges.
It smells like cigarette ash and worn furniture and stale cat ***.
It feels like home and all I want to do is eat salt and sleep.
I know there are other rooms, I know where they are.
But this,
this living room is all I need.
Grandpa's chair looks so full even when it's empty.
His salt shaker looks so tempting...
There are holes in it where his cigarette cherry dropped off.
Everything is orange and brown and faded.
Outside that house it was a dangerous world.
But with only an unlocked door separating me from it,
I felt safe.
Let me sleep there once again,
and let him fill the chair, won't you?