Sky Castles
I live in sand castles built in the sky,
that tumble with thunder and drown me in lies.
The back of my brain is being juiced like a lime;
a gorilla grips my neck and swings like a vine.
Mirror on the wall, what do you see?
Neither a beauty nor princess,
nor a ghost nor a thief—
just a form of a person as pale as the wall.
The higher you climb, the surer you fall.
Almost bled out from a fine paper cut.
The band-aid is old, but the glue is still stuck,
and the edges are peeling and turning to black.
But the band-aid won’t move; it’s as firm as a tack.
Been pierced by a petal that fell from a rose;
it left neon bruises on all but my toes.
I handed my pain to the man in the coat,
but it wasn’t sufficient, so he told me to go.
My paper was stamped “Approved” in bright red;
I traded it for pebbles and a half-comfortable bed.
And all of the people sing songs of great cheer,
while I’m left here gasping in a glass with no beer.
I tied my shoes in a rabbit-tree knot;
I thought it was good, but the judge deemed it was odd.
Asked for direction to the one with the map,
laid down my head, tears dripped in his lap.
“Go right, then go left, or however you feel.
Only you know the way, only you know what’s real.”
I danced to the music till I hit center stage;
the lights, they all dimmed but the spot where I stayed.
Whispers and chatters from a crowd at intermission—
I bowed to no one, no applause, no remittance.
November 14, 2025 @walkingparadoximok