The still quiet of the empty apartment
serves to only echo the steady tapping
of rainwater dripping onto the concrete
just outside the window
Everything feels like it should be painted
by Picasso, during his blue period
in various shades of the clam, but icy color
The fact that it isn't
gives the soul a sense of nervous
displacement. All of these commonplace
colors and shapes feel foreign and surreal
The world seems like it should be frozen
in both the sense of stillness and temperature
but it’s not
A warm breeze is moving the bland, beige curtains
and that is more terrifying than any monster
that has never hidden under your bed
The rainwater still drips, and echoes
and nothing is wrong, out of place, or eerie
except that it should be
and so it is
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 3:42 PM UTC
The still quiet of the empty apartment
serves to only echo the steady tapping
of rainwater dripping onto the concrete
just outside the window
Everything feels like it should be painted
by Picasso, during his blue period
in various shades of the clam, but icy color
The fact that it isn't
gives the soul a sense of nervous
displacement. All of these commonplace
colors and shapes feel foreign and surreal
The world seems like it should be frozen
in both the sense of stillness and temperature
but it’s not
A warm breeze is moving the bland, beige curtains
and that is more terrifying than any monster
that has never hidden under your bed
The rainwater still drips, and echoes
and nothing is wrong, out of place, or eerie
except that it should be
and so it is
napowrimo 2015
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