To myself, in love

There is somewhere a glass castle.

Towering pillars and windows seen through clouds,

The stairs go beyond anybody’s reach.

There is somewhere a glass castle.

Each piece a memory, each stair a kiss.

It can be smooth or it can be grotesque.

It can be dreams come true,

Or it can be every dream missed.


There is somewhere a glass castle,

And in it, on a chair balancing on 2 and a half legs,

Is me.

There is blood on my feet and diamonds in my hand.

There is glitter in my hair and a stab wound in my stomach.

I am beautiful and torn all at once.


Somewhere, there is a castle of glass.

And in it, is them.

They echo, bouncing off of walls and

Shattering the carefully crafted reality in

My carefully guarded brain.

They shutter, the image after image of them

Invades like a slideshow I cannot stop.

They melt into me and heat up my heart

Until I have third degree burns.

And then they leave me cold and empty

And nursing my wounds.


The glass castle is a trap.

It looks stunning from the outside,

Reflecting blue skies and shining so bright

That it almost makes you blind.

It makes the greens greener, the whites whiter, the yellows yellower.

But it also makes the blues purple, and the purple black.

It makes the black into endless darkness that suffocates you.


Inside, you give a memory to get a stair.

Inside, you craft each piece with a piece of you.

Inside, you sit on broken glass and feel only cloud 9 and butterflies.

Inside, you forget there is only one way out.

When the sun goes down, and the glass gets dark,

And the shards start to poke out into your apple skin,

You remember the way in which you came.


To get out, you must rip the glass out of you.

To get out, you must leave the pieces behind,

They are no longer yours.

To get out, you take every memory that you don’t want, to get a stair.

To get in is bliss. To get out is pain.


There is somewhere a glass castle.

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