the room slowly drains of sound
its stained walls are written
with colors of forgetting
undefined the light slips away
but other parts leak its slow invasion
thru the gaps in the window
the shattered glass is a harsh breeze
that narrowly projects itself into my head
the grunting pile of flesh in the corner
made up of shattered lives
moves slowly through the paces of leaving
getting dressed
getting the purse together
getting the mirrors reflections
and stealing them away into deep pockets
they bleed there
leaving her jeans wet in the solid florescent flicker
she is in the hall
spilled out onto the hard tiles
i go out there and rescue
small things that escape her clutches
pulling her back into the room
seeking her plunder
unleash her on the empty drawers
scrape scrape scrape
she re-enters the room
and begins to circle and hover
over when she believes the wallet to be
its a repeating process
that scrapes you down till
your ready to never open the door
to her again
stained as the walls
she is a decoration