Aquarium

There is a sense of wrong

to be a place you call your home,

in which space is a part of you,

and something so much more.

A small transparent frame

rests on experimental thought, 

like pushing a wish out the door,

watching it bend and form.

It usually takes just a knock

for the turmoil to merge you with time,

yet it does not seem to apply

when there is no comfort in lies,

just a monologue with the world,

a demented pattern to force a smile.

Makes me wonder which height,

will make it seem like a slower fall.