stuck

He wasn't a man you noticed, but he was one you never forgot. He had the callousness to break you down but the charm to build you up. There was no warning; it was just too late. Had you been clairvoyant you wouldn't have ended up here in this rat's nest of a situation. Can't leave, can't stay. You swivel around like a bar stool rotating horny patrons. You don't notice his height until his arms are around you, tightly, tight enough to emphasize the 'aloneness' of your predicament. You wish you were anything but what you were; a maggot squirming from a wound, a scab flicked to the floor, a fly, dead and stuck to the screen door. How you could be a sane, respectable, intelligent woman stuck in this demoralizing reality is too confusing to digest. Instead you move with him, in step, in rhythm, hoping you might survive one more day. And if you do you'll dye your hair green to slip into the green wilderness. You'll dye your skin orange and slip into the pile of Clementines. You'll vow to become untraceable amongst all things colorful.