Do you even feel the glue
that holds the cracks together,
did you hear the broken pieces
is this layout put together so concrete,
the facade such a slip of the eye
scaffolding a mere set em'brace,
somedays I have to ponder
who is reflecting off these walls,
made your way to the top floor
never stepped foot in the basement
   it's just not happening,         as if
when the tangible starts to crumble,
   everyone makes it to the safe room
draft another blueprint of the heart,
   stuck together with spat out remnants
"I'm faking it 'til I'm pseudo making it"
   plays on a scratchy loop in my head
apparently you're not       only blind
this cinder'd block is going down
   there are no doors out of this shaft
    once you crash that cellar floor
you end up six feet below the ground*      

start over...