Glass

If you look closely, you can see right through

me. If you pay attention, it becomes

clear. See, this house is formed of windows. View

is plain. Voyeurs devour, weakness succumbs.

Peer in. These organs, vulnerable, displayed

as artefacts on pedestals of bone

and fascia, are my fickle fixtures laid

bare. Spectacles, admired, keep time alone.

This busy mind is open to trained eyes;

translucent skull pronounces mirrored words.

Illusion savours seven years’ disguise,

presents observer’s image, features blurred.

Now, caution any neighbour looking in:

spectator is spectated from within.