The Home Inside My Head

I’m getting pretty good at leaving, my patience isn’t wearing thin
Autumn never ends in my head, no matter how far I’ve been
It feels like everybody is the branch and I’m the leaves
Falling from the top of every leafless tree…

~*~

Seven lies, to make up for the ones I spent on you last night

Veneration and admiration melting into stained-glass spites

Memories triggered on the revolver with an empty chamber

A diamond bullet for each bloodstain that I fail to remember

.

This is way more complicated than smoking on the dashboard

And sitting on the basement stairs, tying another noose’s cords

An apartment with a single chair and a couch to accommodate

The monsters that visit my bedroom when I am staying up late

.

Doorways without a doorknob, a stone key without a brass lock

A broken doorbell with a barren picture frame, so please knock

Provisions of diverse renditions settling in moth-frayed drapery

Your overplayed excuses taste like naphthalene on dust bunnies

.

Under the lampshade where you hid those secrets and the baggage

You stowed away with hallmark cards and epipens for easy storage

Brass tacks and rusty corkscrews can’t alter the sound of voicemail

Last year it was our symphony, now it’s just another ire on the scale

.

A ghost of the tenant occupying an abandoned and decrepit residence

Ancient tales of foreboding snatched by shadows, gaunt reminiscence

The home inside my head feels much more spacier with a lodger gone

Past vacant stares and for sale signs, perhaps it is time I end my haunt.

~*~

The home inside my head has a bed for me
That no one will ever get the chance to see
A kitchen table with one chair, walls with
Empty picture frames no one will ever see…

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