Look at you, an atheist addressing God,
a fairytale beast caged
and force-fed with Prozac,
awaiting redemption.

You won't let me spill some light
on your spectacular murals
that you've been hiding lately behind
"loneliness is a bliss" and "goodbye".

I want my "how was your day"s and "take care"s
and caressing mutual core.
I want my greyscale back
and all of my pages blank, serene and sober.
I want to peel you off the arteries' walls
as easy as I peel off my nail polish when I get anxious

unless I get to be
Goldielocks once again.