Take your house...
the sunken in foundation, the creaks and the aches, the syruppy moat of moalasses where the do gooders and their platitudinal well wishes slowly drown.

it's your world, your house, where the familar leaky faucet drips 'stay inside, stay put', the incessant drafty gloom-bedridden in moss, the forever spiraled stairs of certain death.

You were left bereft.

And it this house, your house, the pictures coalesce with cobwebbed foes. Her forever echoed cooes. the never again somnuambulants jaunts to her crib.

It is your body now. The scarred lines of relief perpindicular to veins. It is who you are now and what you once were. This is the door bell stuck in mid-chime with specters of laughter. This is your forever goodnight.

A mortuary mortgage.


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