Writing

ghosts of peo / ple hiding in this house / they grew up in and left / hiding under tables in clo / sets long thin men pale pe / ople dark people all hidden / separately in the same room / waiting for the seeker to finis / h counting endlessly endl

He can see kids glowing in the kitchen, 
Hands sticky with sweet gossip, 

Bright, beautiful little selves smudged by the window that he, 
A cracked old statue has broken his hands and fingers by banging on, 

A girl stood alone

on the edge of the world,

scared to fall,

but somehow she could not leave

Her heart pounding,

Her chest screaming,

I have this little balcony

On the second floor of my house

My big white house

With gold fixtures

In this town in sunny so cal

They say the eyes

Are the windows to the soul

Stained glass

Of brown and green and blue

I look into her eyes

The eyes that match the color

From the moment you are born you enter into a world outside of all that is safe and cozy. Thrust upon lands. Joining a world of thought known only when you are at peace with your being.