Disorder

Papers are missing, memories are lost
Files are misplaced, and there was something else I forgot.

Emotions are piled up,
The cabinets over-flow
My migraine is building up
I can feel the tension grow

The chaos is everywhere
Disorganized, unorgnaized, does it matter?
The filth is spreading at bubonic speed
My past and future are catching up to each other

If you're going to insist on being sorry for yourself
Or if you insist on replacing me with your guilty conscience
Know that I will not, cannot carry this weight
So clean up this mess...before it's too late.

Saffron Skies

There are bits and pieces of my soul lying around this room. They are scattered like glowing embers from a fire, still burning hot. They are there as reminders, so that no one forgets who I am, my fiereceness, like a roaring cry of acknowledgement.

I'm not covering up my emotions with saffron colored paint. It has the opposite effect, actually, it speaks to my boldness, my sassyness, my fiery spirit.

Even when I close my eyes, I see this orange glow. My churning stomach is orange, my quick hands are yellow, my moist lips are red, and the warmth of my body is breathing from every corner. Like a flame, I dance to my own tune, swaying and sashaying around the room, lost in my own tumble-weed world.

The winds are changing outside.