When the rest of the world seems like a movie reel

Spinning incessantly

Spitting useless nonsense

Faster than you can process,

But it's playing a beautiful picture

You've heard

But you can see for yourself

Because you're busy hinding under your seat.

Making friends with chewed gum

And the other 

Less-then-savory

Messes on the floor.

 

When you're on ths floor,

Under your seat,

It's hard to raise your head

Cemented to the floor 

By melted Cabbage-Patch Kids

Even harder to get up

'Cause of the other 

Sticky bitter butter messes

Holding you down.

 

But the hardest thing is breathing.

Even the air is sticky here.

Sticky and used.

But while you're here,

Struggling to breathe,

    The incessant reel keeps spinning

    Spectators keep ogling

    And chewed popcorn kernals continue to parcipitate

        Onto your now butter-stained shirt.

 

But its dark here on the theater floor.

And no one sees the stains

   Or the broken remains

   Of once-gnawed gummy bears

    Bedazzling your jeans.

 

No one sees except the other messes.

And what do they care?