You shatter the windows
and hold your hands
under the falling pieces
of my cracked heart.

How does it feel to feel
the millions of fragments
from every unlike window
of the once glowed heart.

How does it feel to feel
the pieces glowing now
to look at the reflection
of past, present and love.

air on my limbs
as a i reach out to
clean my windows
i cried,
masticating is coping for me.
i felt like i didn't
deserve your touch
or kindness
grateful yet bewildered,
content yet upset.
you saw through
my windows, the massive
buildings take up space and time as
my transparency became
known to you

Double glazed prisons
that suffocate us in
Stopping air
dainty pure
saturating chakras
and healing pores
Skewed panes
Isolate and whisper
Lies
keeping us inside
to jeopardize
All destiny
Meant to thrive.
Glass severing
our connection
to the quaint outside
Leaving Nature,
Our spirit guide,
meekly to subside
when seen
through this lens
of poisoned eyes.

There’s mold in the attic
Next to the instillation and between the ears
so many people wanna condemn this place
Yet they have never lived here
They didn’t see it when it was new and beautiful
Before the outside world formed cracks in its foundation
Before years of storms leaked in and rotted memories
All the world sees is foreclosed eyes
That’s why they are so blind
Always trying to tear us down
Instead of building us back up
Then they wonder why we put locks on are doors
And plywood over the windows
They only wanna see something new
Even if its not there own
Some people houses look just like mine
Some peoples minds are abandoned homes

Better at creating,
The best at manipulating,
But why do I always find myself...
Sat here just waiting?

Watching the world
Pass me by,
Through the window of
A moving vehicle
I'm a passenger
But this imagery feels like the movies,
Where some serendipitous event happens
At this very moment,
When you are pondering over life
Through your little window
You wake up to realize that this is the real-life
A journey with random stops,
Varied stories,
Vivid dreams,
But unlike life, there's a fixed destination
To that journey
While life is more of an endless cesspool
Of unrelated chaos
The destination is not etched into your hands,
The destination is what you make of it
Well, maybe there is no point
In trying to get all the answers to my questions
It took me a while to figure out how
It ain't all that bad,
How I'm happy and glad
For the good times that I've had
Not all-in for always living in the moment,
Just trying to live more in the good ones
Destiny and life go hand-in-hand
Maybe I should not let my life go bland
I should take decisions and actions,
Rather than waiting for the signs that I can understand.

There's a bird at your window.
Chest cloaked in a lush boastful yellow.
Timid dust brown feathered head,
with flurries of white laced around its neck.
There's a bird at your window.
Singing the echoes of blissful memories,
majestic tones of innocence.
There's a bird at your window.
Eyes filled to the top with intuition,
feathers fluttering with intent,
not a worry in the world.
There's a bird at your window.
Wondering if it knows,
knows what world we live in today,
or if it even cares.
There's a bird at your window.