Triple.

And we walk the streets. And the wind, it smacks our faces.
And we get inside, the walls protect us.
The red is warming me. The red is burning me. I must leave the walls.
I must hide inside the orange, bury myself under the waves.
The bubbles cover me up, they tingle my fingers and my toes.
I miss that feeling of the cold.
I regret that feeling, wanting to be inside.
This red is so warm, too warm,
I wish and wish and wish the wind would smack me one more time.
Here I am, swimming, not drowning in the tide of the red.
The blankets and blankets and blankets of red.
I wade in the water.
I make my way toward the light, but it's too short.
And I'm stuck between the orange and the red, and I'm caught between the light.
And I want to stay here in the light.
And I want to be here forever.
But I have to keep pulling and pulling and pulling until I'm in the red.
And I swim and I wait until I see the light again.
Until something makes me want.
Something makes me want to breathe and live and be in cold.
The wind and the cold, forever.
Anything is better than this, including the light.