tightly

   

you grow tired of the plain white walls

you grow tired of the pale flesh on your body

you grow tired of the still grey calm that is your bed

you cover your walls in streaks of crimson

you paint your skin the color of pregnant clouds

you draw arrows on your bedsheets

you stand in the middle of it all

watching the color peel away

from the walls dripping

from your skin falling

off the edges of your mattress

you stand there

staring at the

brightly colored floor

and you feel a yawn

somewhere deep inside

you hold it there and go on with your life.