Here in My House

Here I play

inside my house

the dreams I wish

were true. And I 

snap so hard,

fingers pressed,

buttons submitting

to a will that knows 

only filters brushed

with colors I 

never knew existed.

Here in my house

I play like dreams 

are what built

my home and

the chips of my soul 

I suck on when it's hot.

Dream-driven

is what I’ll hashtag

it as my chin crooks

upward in the air.

I am okay

and so are you

and so is everything

outside the windows

I’ve painted black

so the Lord can’t see

what pretty colors 

I’ve allowed to be

that He would never

dare sweep away.