Crossroads

Intervals become my friend at nine tonight.
Awaiting for the time we have alone to unwind
from the helplessness of society and neediness
of its constituents. Everyone wants something
from someone, but no one can find me this eve.
Machines laughing to the sounds of footsteps
on their backs. Clocks ticking, people glaring
secretively, wondering when ten will arrive.
Alone in the room, which gathers green balls,
purple steps, and pink carpets, I loosen muscles.
It is here that images and voices are avoided,
but colorful emotions and solitude fill my soul.