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I lay on my side.

I feel the earth spinning.

My eyes have a hard time staying focused

on the walls.

I haven’t felt the urge to close my eyes

in weeks. 

Closing them now makes the spinning worse.

My head feels heavy.

My body feels heavy.

I remember learning about 

the different kinds of movement in school.

There are four.

Carving.

Flying.

Floating.

Radiating. 

Everyone said I float when I walk.

I laugh now, as I feel I have been carving.

Every move i make feels like

I am walking through thick peanut butter.

I feel heavy. 

I had a dream about the walls last night.

They spoke to me in raindrops,

a peaceful rhythm of melancholy.

The walls pulled me in,

as if they had arms.

I sat in the walls 

and felt a sadness so blue

it turned light gray 

like the rain clouds or

the gray walls of this house.

I never felt a sadness so deep.

I couldn’t speak.

The walls could.

Their raindrop words picked up in intensity 

until it was a hailstorm of screams

and sorrow

and gray.

It was so gray.

And it followed me today.

A gray cloud formed from the sadness 

in my walls

and it followed me today. 

I lay on my side.

I feel the earth spinning. 

My eyes have a hard time staying focused

on the walls.

I am so gray.