the air hums in borrowed colors—
someone's laughter drips down the wall
and the floor is made of eyes,
all blinking toward everything but me.
i wear a name stitched from static,
a body drawn in pencil light.
voices bloom like glass in the dark—
i touch one and it shatters into rain.
their joy bends gravity.
mine folds inward,
a secret room with no door,
a pulse that echoes the wallpaper's sigh.
somewhere, music spills from the ceiling,
its rhythm forgets to hold me.
i move my lips and lose the language,
watch syllables dissolve into dust.
in the reflection of the crowd,
i see a hundred faces stitched together
to form a single stranger—
and realize it's mine.