The walls
sing blue
the floors
scream orange
but in a
quiet subtle
kind of way

The bed creaks
with the window
they seem to converse
as you shift in your slumber
the way the wind
whistles past
a lullaby for dreams

The paintings talk shop
comparing, contrasting
the florals feel superior
the landscape's bored
the portrait stares out
the window dreaming
of the day when
he'll have a friend
the still lifes always gossip

The sounds of the room
are just right for
a demented mind
inspiring to the disturbed
a friend for the paranoid
a calm in the eye of
a mental storm