and dryer sheets.
People coughing and wet
Whiteness everywhere and an uncomfortable, almost mildewy, thick air,
I feel like I dont belong, and then im outside,
pushed toward another building
and its too bright.
this time its quiet and
There are chairs
and a dark carpet.
The kind that hides stains really well,
dark blue and brown and black and tan and coffee and blood.
And a white noise machine and a radio and sullen children in a corner playing with leggos.
and a febreez bottle sitting in the receptionists' window next to the flowers.
So, Leah, how are you doing today?
My shrink pushes her glasses up onto her skinny face.
I watch the square of sunlight on the carpet.
It has no color.
No yellow or gold or orange or red. Its overcast and foggy and this ray has pushed through heroically but failed to bring the warmth and joy that was its true mission.
The clouds filter out warmth and joy.
I wrap my arms tightly around