My window flickers off and on
Subtle pixels of iridescent light
Twisting and contorting
I sway in their plight
To escape the tangled web of enigma
That bleeds streams of opaque honey
We souls were forbidden to taste
Our conscience knows this is not the way
So it prays to God for an hour of understanding
While my eyes wail for their scorched sockets
Dancing are the chorus amid cascading smoke
An antidote or distraction?
The window pane has two sides
One which I am incapable of entering
Drooling for the sweet feast it displays
I lap at the bland glass
Hardly a feast
Hardly nothing
I continue anyway
Since stale bread was better than starvation
Fingers were lost in an excuse to tell time
Those poor maidens with no limb for rings
The lion breathes vows to roar into the silence
We praise the windows that lull us into paralysis
The lion’s cubs do tricks on the bleak pavements
Flinging gaunt mice to the crowds famished lips
We reap the hazy glee of alliances not knowing
That behind their flaming flanks
Rests plump bucks of rich meat
Caught from their claws
Skinned and left to rot
To fashion a coat for the puppeteer
That holds us in suspension
Craving the window pane
That strips our eyes of shutters
And not its reflection
Dangling from the hook
Of the mirage of false representation
Wrists stained from the chains
Yet we still swaddle the shimmering apperception
When the wolf resists humanity
More frequent it is cornered to be tamed
Only a savage dog sports a leash
The obedient are liberated of everything but free will
Their silence is deafening
Crumbling in this bubble of terror and division
And quarreled with the nausea that rises within
Keys used to float beyond the stiff walls
I gaze at the door I used to shut them out
Buried from their skin of brass spikes
Thinking more anguish would arise if I let them in
I fumble with the knob on the door
Hands fizzing from their dormant rest
The air thickens and I melt inwards
Gasping for release
Under a sliver of a crack
Longing for brass spikes
Maybe I’d feel something
We kiss the mouth that bites us
In hope that the taste of their lips
Will make up for the venom that laces the tips of their teeth
But the venom that soon enough
Will be the very sickening thing we crave
The window is the true eternal spectator
It will watch us dig crescents of insidious lies into our palms
As we wail for a substitute for our disintegrating future
Are we to blame for setting ourselves aflame to feel an inch of warmth?
But that wasn’t a window we hailed king
For Windows shatter and fog
Like our clouded minds and beating hearts
Their shards are what made our scars
And what we use to scar them back
For Windows are laced with opportunity
That spark both uncertainty and interest
Isolating and instilling a virtuous reflection
Of what roams outside the boundaries that hold us captive
When the hour chimes and you lift the latch to open
Or crush it into smithereens
The Window will greet you with a parallel scene
That you feared so greatly would burn your skin
To see the same sun
And feel its beams
The realization that the Window of both pain and pleasure
Was worth more than any diluted fantasy could supply
