What I wish was a beige ocean
is a darkened tan lint filled
swamp
of mismatched socks and
yoga pants in every color
White hairs tether themselves to
black clothes
making the world look pretty grey
A guest to the canine
Empty orange glazed bottles
with white caps fill gaps
between clothes
Orange cones that hold chemicals
diverting traffic in my brain
A working pattern fails to come through
And workers turn their fingers blue
day and night trying to
form an intelligent route
Cars just keep
colliding in the meantime
A sanctuary of sorts
At least the walls aren’t padded
though a missing feature on drunken nights
And I’m afraid
if I leave this safe dark place
I’ll never come back the same,
or worse, I will.

~kb