Our eyes meet, in a shotgun blast,
Tearing holes in my reality.
Look inside and tell me what you find
Amidst the ruined toothpick structures,
Behind the shattered saran wrap windows.
A lengthy project building those-
Savage balance of pretty to behold and practical,
Compare objects intricate and weak, blown glass,
To those mundane and strong like walls of brick.
The former enchants my eye, the latter holds me up.
No room for both in all this tattered clutter.
Careful what you touch in this hall of illusions
Something seeming blunt is sure to pierce
I cry out mute,
Nobody hears,
No one helps.
Who can?