The Floor Wallows Lower
By: Chloe Basch
The floor wallows lower than the tile on the ceiling,
The roof looms shallow as magma.
Pillows spout bands of color,
As the charcoal chair awkwardly stands about.
In the middle, a clear table hovers eerily only a foot from the falling ground,
Leaving no penumbra.
A black box bombastically sings and strikes the eerie table with a lapse of colors and noises
Casting its own unexisting shadow.
The floor dons its loud carpet, as it speaks in tongues and colors to the pillows.
Prisms and darkness cascade down the chamber,
As the shelves of ink sway in silence.
The roof looms shallow as magma.
Pillows spout bands of color,
As the charcoal chair awkwardly stands about.
In the middle, a clear table hovers eerily only a foot from the falling ground,
Leaving no penumbra.
A black box bombastically sings and strikes the eerie table with a lapse of colors and noises
Casting its own unexisting shadow.
The floor dons its loud carpet, as it speaks in tongues and colors to the pillows.
Prisms and darkness cascade down the chamber,
As the shelves of ink sway in silence.
Writer's Statement: By writing this piece, I hope my words resonate with those who have been stuck in their writing, and who have hopefully also have gotten through it.