Segmenting the world I inhabit,
it becomes modular architecture
I can gaze upon admiringly,
and stays safe enough for me to nap within
on life's lazy weekends.

Yet still, it is flimsy enough
to coexist with the confidence
that I can crush it with a brown fist—

       a cellophane construct;
       everywhere synthetics, everywhere dross.
       all so beautiful, a gradual decline,
       a sudden flight—dash, comma, period.
       giftwrapped up so nice, take it:
       a piece of my heart covered
       in glitter, colored tissue, and bows.

(I didn't want it to offend so easily,
so I lovingly covered it with those.)