beige

I stare at a canvas,

a canvas beige

as plethora of arms

wrestle me away.

The things in my heart

churning and slushing,

pressure building

without sway.

There’s this burning in my brain.

Flames consuming it’s air,

soon to be a vacuum

ready to fade.

The canvas stares at me

and becomes a mirror

to show me a soul

a soul colored beige.