I see them each time I leave the elevator.
The blue white wrinkled forms asleep
like a blue haze, everywhere. The seem to
have taken root. Lifeless legs clothed in
multicolored cheap fabric. Thick roots grow
down into the blue carpeting. Oh god I must
keep moving or I will become one of them.
The dinner bell rings and they awaken slowly
as if from a dream. They wheel themselves
towards food. What food I know not. I must
leave here. I must run. Oh God give me hope
wrinkled forms come near
my heart pounds with in my breast
run run run away.
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