Iced In

I am almost certain this house is shrinking  
I have begun to watch heavy mouth breathers as if they were mine canaries  
And have duct taped down the stove tops  
so that no Cabbage or Salmon or other viscous pungency invades what’s left of my senses  
  
Last night I slept on the couch for a change of scenery in which to dream  
My dreams have become complacent  
I wish they contained urges like mine  
I feel they hold to investment in my desires  
  
My longings are being held hostage by a man in a boring brown suit who would never dare try and pull off a black fedora  
He can only move me  
By a rope and pulley system  
  
It feels unnatural  
Without the odd pleasures of the surreal  
  
This environment suffocates my ability to self stimulate  
My imagination bounces off of four grey walls who’s ugliness is approaching like a step sister  
She creeps towards me and scuffs her shoes  
She breathes heavily and I eyeball her impending fall  

Surely this storm will be the bounce house death of me
By body splayed out in an un natural position to chalk around on rainbow colored parachute fabric
I hope I allow the look on my face to say it  all