my house has large fences

with spikes

and brick walls with

shards of broken glass stuck on top.

~

my house is colored red,

but there are patches falling

apart where you can see

the older layers of

pink, purple, orange and black.

~

my house has tinted windows-

the kind where you can see

nothing from the outside

but everything from the inside-

albeit with a hue of purple longing

~

my house smells like pine trees

and mcdonald’s signature sauce.

~

my house is younger than me –

i built it when i was 10 or 11.

~

although i have sold almost all

of my furniture,

i come back to my house

again and again.

~

and though the hardwood

floor hurts my back as I lay

and the mosquitoes sting me

all over,

I always wake up here

and peer longingly at the houses

that surrounds me –

~

but i dare not step out

for the fear of finding that

my house is imaginary

and once, I am out there

in the world,

~

i will have nothing to

call home

~

once again.

~~~

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