Crashbox

What is this sound I hear?
Across the room pure beauty
And I
Separation from that which is found in the smallest of dusty corners
Cleansing so bright
The little man opens his mouth in anger.
Right away the confusion
Going
Gone
But not lost, of course; for the sky is still orange and pink in the eve
Color
And the pen
Trying to feel smart...
Reality is craving my soul
Clutching, but the rug pulls free
Swept up and
Held by the scruff
A grin spreads wide
Hwah!