satanspetcat

This shirt only has three buttons on it.

I'm standing in the corner atop my amplifier, trying to see the same old room in a new way for the first time in months. But after falling twice, twice into the concrete backed carpet of my room, I realize that I've been here before.

Standing on the corner of my bed, before I got rid of the bedframe, before I started sleeping on a mattress on the floor. I was standing trying to get into these cabinets, trying to get to my bag from the top shelf.

Forget the fact that I'm too short to reach. And since that frame is gone, so is my top shelf, the things there stopped existing for a minute. And I would've looked through them again, the bottles, the pictures, the memories, until I fell off that amplifier one more time.

And as the speakers throb behind my ears, waves of bass I wish could crush my heart, I'm eyeing the desk around me. Laptop, books, speakers, papers, materials, screw drivers, orange bottles and silver-backed packages, it's all I can do not to smile. I want to laugh, not at the fact that it funny, but that it's not.

Laugh at the fact that I wish my skin lay bare on my bones, that my eyes could close, or even better that they might open. How I wish, how I wish.