There is no home for some of us
it changed its mind too often
so we
paint our walls with the visions of philosophers
and fashion windows from the minds of artists
and pattern doors from the rags of fairytales
the pounding of fists cannot open it
nor can the loudest scream pierce its glass
it is remarkable how
the deepest tissue of the brain
can create a house so final
that daddysmellslikeginandpussyscaringmummywhoissoscaredshehitsustoprotectusandissososososososorrysorrysorrysorrysorry
and nosupperforyoumissyiwillgiveyousomethingtocryaboutyoulittleshitfuckassholebastardbitchdon'tyoudareusethosewordstheyarebadlikeyoubadlikeyoubadlikeyoubadlikeyoubadlikeyouandiwillwashyourmouthoutwithsoapandiwishyouwereneverborndon'tcryyoulittlebaby
cannot break through its hard doors and though it takes forever when it is finally
final
we can finally go
home
No comments:
Post a Comment