This Wretched House

Kind of abstract, mostly personal


            It was me or the ocean, and you wanted to sail far

            I hate my life I want it to change, you always used to say

            The girl at the door held in her hands a warning for me

            She’s going away, she’s going away

            Do a fun trick, spin around on both your uprooted feet

            Oh honey, why do you do this to yourself

            You know I’ll love you still in hell.


            You wrap your words so tight and tie them in a noose

            Hang me from the door and leave this wretched house

            The windows have broken in, shards of glass upon the floor

            The chimney’s been knocked down, no warmth for us anymore

            Leave out the back as I shut my eyes and yell

            Turn the lock and tiptoe across the ground.


            There are rows of ghosts within my chest, between my ribs

            They haunt my beating heart you see, help me get them out of me

            You’ve gone away a long time ago, it would be nice if you wrote

            My hands are clawing at my neck, you are never coming back

            I’m running, running out of time and I’ve got to get out of this

            Empty old house

            Before the whole goddamn roof caves in on my head


         Where has my mind gone and why hasn’t it returned yet

         I know that I broke all the delicate glass in the hallway museums

         On all sides I’m being testified against

         I am such a clumsy creature that under my feet I ground them to sand

         My bones are weary and the forecast is apocalyptic

          So in defeat I’ll curl like a snake and await my next prey

          Maybe one day you’ll wander by me again.


         And on the sides of my heart are the shapes of your thumbs

         Now they press instead into my lungs.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed