Remember the lines from the white hallway. Very colourful they were;
one was red firebrick, brique feu in French, and one olivedrab
reminding me of very dirty vodka martinis with Chopin, straight up.
I will follow them barefoot and go home. I’ll be happy.

Treading around again, Evelyn is still smacking bruised hands to forehead trying to fling her demons against your wall.
Forget about me Evelyn,your cackle can’t break this ice
I'm bare foot for a reason, vacated
Passing by the Frigid places amongst
The plastic lime tiles
Set above a sulpheric smell.
Resounding stares - empty too - writhing past, another round down,
Flat bottomed glass
Inconceivable minds aligning in a row
Pulsating rapidly against my vibe, a secret commune awash in a cocktail,
Of colourful treats.