Mess

Turn the key and open the door
Falling through the mist that rises from the floor.
Momentum is not held back
By the forces normally at work,
Circles sing and squares cry
Purple smells and orange reeks
This song tastes like ice cream and steak.

Turn the key the other way
Today I cry and she bleeds
Wondering why this floor was left conveniently
for her to weep upon and spill upon.
Her words and fluids which alert no one
and mean nothing. 
One day there will be something else…

Discern and agree with these opinions.
Images that say what is what to be.
Growth and motion warms the thighs
letting treasures unbury themselves
and end the chase.