the thunderstorms cloud my mind,
the rain washing away my thoughts,
lightning blinding me from what I can see,
thunder deafening my understanding.
beige and vanilla swirl around the skies,
no flavor for those who hunger.
a drab garment hangs in the corner of the room,
threads swinging from the hem,
the color faded, desiring sequins.
a pair of awkward loafers are tucked beneath the chair
dreaming of a different life;
perhaps longing to adorn the dainty feet of an elegant lady,
finishing off the couture design of an evening gown.
the pane is fogged with the harsh breath of the world,
my hands can't even wipe away a porthole.
my feet are soaked and my trousers heavy.
I can't move.
nothing is as it should be.
everything has turned to glass.
a frozen life on the brink of destruction.
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