Loose

Just a tale from this one strange night.

I look into black holes and wish for a red light.

I just want to stop spinning. 
I wonder where we are going as the trees succumb to November and collapse into the road, which is now forking into four, five, six different paths. 
I am relieved as my feet touch wallpaper, lace flowers in forest and plum.

 

Vibrating, sinking, elevating squares and lines and diamonds and staircases
I long to shrink and acrobatically dance through the electric hues as if they were laser beams, and I was a bandit.
Their hands fall behind, and those hands fall behind, it seduces me like a spell.
The silver dripping down the wall reflects rainbows into me, into them.

I feel a presence lingering, right over my shoulder.
Their touch is terrifyingly close, their darkness becoming my aura. 
I can feel their eyes burning into the back of my brain, weakening me.
Their wicked silhouette in the corner of my eye disappears as I turn to meet their face.
 

All I can see are eyes, bulging, bleeding out of unfamiliar faces.
The safety that is my own mind is being terrorized, rummaged through, defiled. 
I'm helpless like a schizophrenic, exposed like a dream.
Even in my loneliness, the torment screams into my ears. 

 

The colors fade and I begin to remember the comfort of beige and cream.
Morning slides into the blinds, casting lines of both light and dark onto the carpet.
I battle with delirium, my eyelids buckle every few minutes until I give in.
Upon waking, the world had closed in on me. 

 

Author's Note

Be constructive, not destructive.