The Madness of Drying Paint

In the end
after an hour of painting my room
different shades of purple
I watch it dry
and through the moisture of the paint
drowning in oxygen
I see those large
and heavy bronze eyes
staring on
angry
like a bag boy
packing the mob mentality
neatly in Eco-friendly plastic bags
Reminding me
of the last hope
crucified on a billboard cross
just for advertised inspiration
Bringing me close
to that imagined social fence
made of glass
too fragile to climb it
I wouldn't want to break the beauty
of being on the other-side
disbelieving those large and heavy
bronze eyes
I just believe in proudly watching
my paint dry.