Messy Room

Impressionist skies
With brilliant orange and
Vibrant purple
Bleed through the cones of my eyes
And into the receptors in my brain.
With a pencil in hand
Paper upon my lap
I write
I draw
I spill my soul for few to see
For now.
My body trembles at the thought of change
Convulses with the fear of new beginnings
But yearns toward the future with
The utmost force and the utmost speed.
It is not a graceful attempt, no,
It is far more similar to a stumble,
My mind a messy room,
Papers tossed here and there,
Objects with no home.
But, somehow,
The disheveled girl sitting in it's center,
Neurotic, exhausted,
Finds courage to find her 
Impressionist skies
With brilliant oranges and 
Vibrant purples
All the same.