no longer a blank canvas


It’s dark in my room when my phone vibrates,
its light illuminating the wall behind me.
From the other side of the room,
 I’m sitting in the floor.
I’m sitting like my back is cemented to the wall,
my feet curled under me like vines.
Pain blossoms throughout my chest,
a bubble of fear pops in my head,
and now I can’t feel the twigs I have for hands.
I’m blending into the tapestry that my back is a part of,
the colors painting themselves onto me,
a fleshy blank canvas.
My phone,
still vibrating,
still giving of its light,
photosynthesizes my eyes,
peeking them open,
blue irises becoming moonflowers of 2 am.
I want to get up,
but I have no power here.
I am a victim of gravity,
leaving me stuck to the wall and floor,
being devoured by this rainbow tapestry.
I’m every color that’s ever existed,
all at once,
and now I’ve lost the choice
of what I want to be.

Comments