Room Is a Mess

Room Is a Mess

I open my door to bedroom the, smell hits me like a freight train, it knocks me to the floor. Turning my head I witness the clothes I wore last week morph into hills and mountain ranges on my floor. Old lollipops with their wrappers dangle from the stem like trees sway the in the breeze. Mold on an old PB&J turns into mushrooms while the dust from the floor turns into clouds and lightly shadows the rising mountains while the rolling hills surround it. As I walk through the deep forest the trees sway in a steady beat. I notice the moldy mushroom, glance at the dust bunnies and the black ants, that have slipped through the walls for that PB&J. I step on a smaller moldy mushroom and a putrid smell fills my nose, covering my slippers with a blue fuzz and warm goop. From the bottom of this revolting and nauseating clothes pile, I head up the mountain traipse through the sickening sweatshirts, stinky socks and grimy jeans. Halfway up I encounter a new group of dirty-dangerous-dust bunnies and they look like they mean business. I scan the area trying to find a weapon, but in this mess I have as much luck as winning the lottery. I find a belt on the jeans caked with dirt and hold on for my life, my conscious filled to the brim with what could happen