this room is my safe space 
pride flags and rainbows in every corner 
drawers full of makeup i paid way too much money for 
more clothes than any one person could ever need – 
though i only seem to rotate through the same five outfits 

i’ve lived in this room a mere 6 months 
as of two weeks ago I can say it has more furniture than just a mattress

now i have a place
not in bed or on the floor 
to work on the art i force myself to create 
to pass as a productive member of society 
and while i’m glad
it finally looks like someone belongs here, 
it still feels cold 
and lonely 
and 
dirty 

dirty simply because i exist here
my depression and anxiety drip from the ceiling 
dirty water 
pooling in small areas throughout the room
staining everything 
behind the dresser
below the television stand 
even on the desk 

the liquid forces me to second guess if writing is a good idea 
i can’t risk damaging my computer 
maybe it’s best if i don’t write tonight 
or the next day