This is how the teens, now adults,
Cope with their newfound independence,
Overwhelmed by the world and
Drunk on their freedom,
Here, where minds are warped
And time is replaced by the
Spinning of your head as
Our souls are pulled together in
Meaningless,
Powerful ways,
Only daring to fall into
The comfort of one another
As poison courses through our veins,
Setting our minds safely adrift
In the static.

Under the cheap, yellowed lights of
Barren apartments and temporary IKEA dorms,
Our limbs turn boneless
As we submit to the gravity,
Unable to stand,
Crashing together on torn up couches
Threatening to collapse,
Reveling in the warmth of each other as
Rambunctious laughter bubbles forth,
Unbidden, from tired throats as
We try in vain to keep the night at bay,
Seeking peace beyond reality.

Before my brother grew up and forgot the colors of the sky,
He shared with me a secret.
That to become invisible, one only needs to climb,
For most adults have forgotten the shape of the world
Beyond their shoelaces.

Barren, winter-worn branches stretch gray
Against the timid rays of the springtime sun,
Coaxing forth tiny, vibrant leaves that
Will age to weave themselves into the walls of
The sanctuary I inherited from my brother.

Wedged between the highest limbs,
I disappeared.
Peering between the wrestling leaves
Of my favorite maple tree,
I marveled at all I could not see,
Reaching out to trace the sharp indigo mountains
From which mystic creatures rose
To claim the expanse of my imagination.
Here, I lost myself
In realms of endless fantasy.

Now, the seasons cycle past, each spring
Rebuilding the leaf-bricked castle
Of my childhood, but
The creatures I once knew have faded from existence,
For I, too, am forgetting the colors of the sky.