two extraordinarily random poems here...

13,000 feet above the ground
coasting through the air inside a metal bird
look out the tiny oval window 
down
down
down
down
down
down
at a tiny silver car
like a busy beetle, all alone
and wonder if the people inside have any idea
that they're being spied on

it was mustard yellow
once
but not anymore
now its been charred
yellowgrey
like a sickly grungy green
because thats how it feels
a house is supposed to 
protect shelter
and this house did
once
but not anymore
now its alone
it didn't mean to kill
the people inside
that isnt what homes do
it was a home
once
but not anymore
now its just a house 
because its veins were all wrong
and homes have to keep people safe
and the house tried
and couldnt protect
anymore