The Phantom Room

Electricity shooting through my twitching legs.
Hands shaking, blinking fast.
All I want is to leave this room.
A light under the door casts a glow across the dirty linoleum floor.
Blue and green boxes, shaky voices.
A spectacled watcher with watery eyes.
The pit of my stomach is hungry for air.
Even though the air is cold.
I wouldn't know.
All I see is monotony and blank stares.
There is a clocks that reads 4:32 a.m.
That can't be right.
It's light outside.
Or is it?
Flipping through pages.
Scratching my head.
Rows and rows of grey plastic.
Rows and rows of identical flesh.
The neon lights are throbbing like the vein in my forehead.
Throbbing like my aching brain.
My mind suffers, too.
Void of true emotions, my ears listen and my eyes watch as my feelings shut off and I stare at the floor.
Mindless banter about the past.
Languages and thoughts of better days.
Great big bricks with words all over.
I wish I could walk.
Run.
I wish I could bolt from this bleak, dreary Phantom Room.
This room with no shadows or real light.
A room with no view.
A room with no exit.
I see plugs and wires leading nowhere.
I see years and years plastered all over the walls.
The little red bar just keeps on moving.
Never stopping, never speeding up.
This Phantom Room scares me.
No one dares come in.
I hear noises and sounds, so distant and muffled.
But no one dares approach.
For the Phantom Room is hard to leave.
There is no easy way out.
Out.
Out.
It's not just a perspective.
It's a realistic view.
Maybe one day, it'll be a memory.
Just a fleeting thought of a mystery room.
But for now, it is real.
And I am here.
Still waiting in my Phantom Room.