Lonely a home
What is this loneliness that invites itself
into the home of my soul?
It opens no pretty windows for me and takes no part in ever having me once again whole.
Loneliness furnishes my emotions with it's definition beneath starched sheets lining my lone bed.
The shouting it rants and raves through my halls, deafening my ears with it's intended ramblings of nothings said.
I hunch over velvet arms as the emptiness and hollow I feel in the bowels of my belly tenants that familiar presence.
My hate of self and pity's back now bleeds puddles crawling across floor boards in obliged penance.
Loneliness peeks in the mind's hidden closets and their shelves of mirrors reflecting the beautiful Misery.
The great listener to lying lips salivates down my lowly chin, drowning in the ponder's pond of possibly's, as the woe's deservingly wails away the fight and that want to be free.
These hinges and glass doors offering to showcase what use to be, permission not given and now shuns what it was intended for because of my choices and this resting fear in me.....
So continue your uninvited thickness in this most dreary a home my dark and seeming friend...
and I will welcome the scratching on my walls announcing when something has arrived at it's perfected end.