House Of Misery
HOUSE OF MISERY
Here I am again
this darkness looks so familiar,
these tears I am crying
taste of the same salty pain.
The shadows greet me
with open arms,
loneliness spreads wide her legs
for she knows I will
again enter her barren womb.
She laughs and taunts me
this mistress of mine,
for she knows I always return
to her arms of misery.
This house, these walls;
are the same walls,
only they seem higher, more solid,
harder to escape, harder to let in .
The hallways and rooms
are cluttered more then ever,
more sorrows and abused dreams
piled upon the floor in towers,
like ancient
dusty unread books
waiting to be read .
Unused desires
crammed into closets,
falling off of shelves,
thrown into dresser drawers
so full they will never close again .
Ventilation shafts
blocked by passions seeking fresh air,
choking on its own desire
to inhale and exhale love
in a polluted wasteland of emotion .
Then there is this hot putrid attic
with it's little tornadoes of insanity
twisting this way and that
through the maze of love's madness,
confusing that thin line
between love and hate .
And there below
in the cellar
of this house of misery
dwell the monsters
and demons of my guilt .
Crying out all of my mistakes
making judgments of my motives
demanding judgment of my soul .
I will stay here now
for the rest of my days,
I will dream of what should have been,
entertaining ghost from the past .
They will tell and retell
each pain I have lived,
counting the days
ticking away to eternity ….
Here I am again
this darkness looks so familiar,
these tears I am crying
taste of the same salty pain.
The shadows greet me
with open arms,
loneliness spreads wide her legs
for she knows I will
again enter her barren womb.
She laughs and taunts me
this mistress of mine,
for she knows I always return
to her arms of misery.
This house, these walls;
are the same walls,
only they seem higher, more solid,
harder to escape, harder to let in .
The hallways and rooms
are cluttered more then ever,
more sorrows and abused dreams
piled upon the floor in towers,
like ancient
dusty unread books
waiting to be read .
Unused desires
crammed into closets,
falling off of shelves,
thrown into dresser drawers
so full they will never close again .
Ventilation shafts
blocked by passions seeking fresh air,
choking on its own desire
to inhale and exhale love
in a polluted wasteland of emotion .
Then there is this hot putrid attic
with it's little tornadoes of insanity
twisting this way and that
through the maze of love's madness,
confusing that thin line
between love and hate .
And there below
in the cellar
of this house of misery
dwell the monsters
and demons of my guilt .
Crying out all of my mistakes
making judgments of my motives
demanding judgment of my soul .
I will stay here now
for the rest of my days,
I will dream of what should have been,
entertaining ghost from the past .
They will tell and retell
each pain I have lived,
counting the days
ticking away to eternity ….
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