i don't dream like i used to
people come to me in painted scenes when my eyes are closed and yell at me
scream in my face, telling me what i've done to them
all in orange, red, purple
ugly, angry colours
what have i done?

lately i've been spending time with this one friend
i think we're both sadder than we admit to ourselves
we don't talk about it though
avoiding the topic like it's the plague
we instead talk about dreams under tongues
and tea that turns the walls into patterns
not healthy,
but it stops black thoughts from brimming up to our ears for a short while

red eyes, empty bottles
cloudy skies, orange street lights
i feel a part of myself rot away
in a corner of my mind
i see her, crumpled into a ball, looking up with eyes so sad and hopeless
i don't know her anymore

i feel empty when i walk through school
i feel like an orange someone took a spoon to and scraped clean
i listen to the inception soundtrack and wait for myself to wake up from a dream within a dream within a dream
reality keeps bending and twisting
only music reminds me that there is still blood coursing through my body