"It's not for anxiety," they said, tightlipped but concerned,
they don't understand that I can't pay attention if my heart beats louder than my words,
The sound of my thoughts coming at me like trains and bike and buses,
honking at me to say something articulate,
is much louder than their confused voices explaining that the blue pill is to stop the jitters,
but I've got other issues.
They don't see that there is a tea kettle bubbling in my stomach that shoots hunger through its long nose,
in shrill whistles that pierce my insides.
It's all I can hear when the TV is on and I haven't eaten.
But that little chemical spreads inside me like a blanket of silence, quells the screaming children
and the little girl constantly tugging at my heartstrings,
making indiscernible chords that only
echo as the sound of jealousy, fear and self loathing.
She tucks her self in and keeps her hands to herself for a few hours.
As the blue devils shovel more coal in the bed warmers,
the sound of metal clanging is muted by their powers.
Chipping away at the noise makers, the inhabitants of my tortured soul-
I love the empty I feel on adderall.

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones"* she said.

"Well" I said
Maybe I don't mind this glass house of mine being shattered, maybe that's the idea.

Maybe I'd prefer to be seen in all my transparency so you can no longer doubt or question me, cause maybe the glass that forms the walls of this cage isn't see through enough for me.

It fogs with the breath left from all those half truths and words I use to give you clues as to Who I am and Who I'm not.
The words that echo back to me creating so near, so far images of the me that I've forgot.

Maybe in that fog you're not the only one that can't see me properly.
I can't see out...looks frosty
I'm cold, yet I can't stand the heat
As this glass refracts light from gazes
Of spectators and haters pointing pointless fingers as they take a seat,
Insulates a rage in me!

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" she said

As if I couldn't take what was about to come.
As if to dismissively say
You're not ready yet
Don't let this cocoon you've
created come undone.
Giving me forewarning
so I could standstill and run.
Look at me!
I stand still but I run!

But Maybe I don't mind being homeless,
Maybe if I'm home less I'll feel home more in myself absent of barriers,
comforts and fears of wealth and worth
So I grit my teeth,
dig my feet into the earth

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" she said

As I hailed the first one at her 
Watched the crack spread
Across her face
Creating lace shapes
And split her head in two
As her image struggled to cling on
With every molton strand of sand
Left to her but she had no time left to seek
as she fell creating a mosaic of shards,
broken glass at my feet

Stepped over them

People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones she said

Well I just did

Cause I helped raise this Glass House in fear

And I will knock down any monument to dictatorship

Sometimes I wonder if I'm the fake person
As I try to be polite
Extend consideration, be nice, be kind

Cause really you'd have to be blind
Not to see How little time I have to waste
On wastes of time

I'm an **** man
So to see the back of you
I really wouldn't mind

If i could only be arsed man
To look In your direction
If only you had any
to speak of or find