Room

Dull impressions of pale socks swing behind like tails
while I listen to you beating. I'm scared. I'm comfortable.
Pressure on my chest hanging in mid air,
ribs rigid limp twigs, white glory savour and don't dangle but are static.
Clawing. I feel like me. I close my eyes to the light show
pretty rainbows gasping clocks tiny men. I'm moved.
I feel about you. I have nothing to say to you.
Violent silent explosion hurts my head hurts me hurts
and I back away like oil from water, slipping in air.
Trembling carpets hold my sticky grey feet and breath judders in metal
with spoons playing along,
you stare.
It's ok. A fly lands and dust creates mountains between our eyelids
empty flesh pulses, unfortunately.
Gross layers spread out in dull blue, it's simple, mine. It's red, mine. It's bright.
Again. Here, again.
Buzzing lack of presence. A torn tissue between kitten claws
lost in fibres in the air, buffeted by gusts.
We can turn away.