my rug

have you ever had a rug ripped from under your feet
it sends you spiraling forward with such force
you're surprised when your vision doesn't black out
instead you see something different
walls drip their colour and are replaced with something different
skyscrapers are traded for quiet pathways
the bustle of the city is traded for impassive rows of houses
the ability to fly is traded for golden bars in every direction
you pick yourself up from the floor and look for that rug
you want to put that rug back, you want things to return
but the rug is gone
and so is the person that you knew yourself to be