I spent my youth in a house of glass,
my castle among the trees and grass,
no stick or stone could break that home,
where the sunlight filtered freely.

But as I grew older, and stronger, and bolder,
alas, I cracked a pane of glass,
my first thoughts were that my life was breaking,
a little crack had my whole world shaking.

A voice awoke somewhere inside me,
a frantic whisper "Smash it wildly!"
"Bust it! Break it! Tear it down!"
"Burn this glass house to the ground!"

This is how I came to know,
deep inside my youthful heart,
there's beauty in the fire's glow,
destruction is a form of art.

My fragile home was torn apart,
like a gust of wind to a house of cards,
I live happily now, in the open air,
endlessly dancing, on silicate shards.

Scattered myriad of burned down roaches and the stench of stale smoke in the air
Charlie Parker plays from the doomed speakers
There's a cacophony of noise in the outside sunshine breeze
and the dusk is setting
The amalgam of police siren sempiternal wailing and deep bass affection
The windows rattle as riot vans cascade, anguish
and the hooded teen bleeds out unconscious, knife wounds
Skinny framed cloud-man, arrived so sweetly this morn
and leaving dust-bowl plethora, startled screaming mother in mourn

You said we were like the Sun and the Moon.
And I agreed, as long as I got to be the Moon
But soon I realized that,
with you as the Sun,
I didn't get to see you too often.
I got sick of your company only becoming
time spent passing each other throughout the day.
I got tired of other people falling in love with how beautiful you were;
I was young,
jealous.
People never fell in love with me.

you are
frustration because i
always want the last word but
i don't
i want to leave you hanging there
i want you
around my finger
wrapped
around my thumb
hanging
waiting
why aren't you here
wait
i am drowning in these ****** feelings
why can't you just
talk

Sometimes, I forget about the other you.
He slips through the gaps between your teeth,
and his voice creaks from your throat,
the same way my feet creak down
the wooden stairs
in the early
cracks of dawn.

His fingerprints become yours,
and it doesn't hurt anymore.

This fine young brood, the native athletes have arrived
We rise, we rise!
To justify great minds and the since forgotten dreamers
Have we arrogance enough to stand, hands clasped
or are we yet more stepping stones for thought?

We tip-tap diagnostic prose on angelic keys
and work as a unit to enrich newer minds
Before we too retreat to darker corners

And I too saunter with relative pace
and catch your casual eye
Struggling to conclude its motive
and hoping to embrace the future.

Disappointment.
Be ready for it.
Ready or not, here it comes.
Like hide and seek.
Telling you to expect the unexpected.
Even if the unexpected is hiding up in a tree.
When the rules clearly defined only "on the ground hiding spots."
Ready to drop in on you.
On top of you.
And crush you to the ground.
Catch me if you can.
If you are ready.