Tuesday, 29 December 2009

My heart long ago realised that this house was not a home
So where am I to rest?
if home is where the heart is, then where shall I find my bed

No here amongst the daily dying with their rotting stress
not here amongst the nervous breakdowns with lives lead in past tense
not here amongst these caring strangers, whom i'm supposed to know; but whose priorities lay in bottomless bottles, petty acts and ex-wives across the road

I am made from substance that will not break,
but now has a tendency to rust
with every passing storm my shell ever more becomes a husk

I once heard a line that said "i'm destined to alone"
reminded me of how i'm forever sleeping on & testing different floors to see if I can call them home
so I can finally begin to learn lessons that I should already know

to have someone take a lasting and concrete parental influence in my life
without any prior addictions or suicidal days
that have taken up nearly 20 years of my time.

my heart long ago realised that this house has never been a home.


Anonymous said...

I love this poem. It tells a sad story... Have you written it?
I too write poetry... most of it rather dark though... Keep up the beautiful work. I will be reading it if you dont mind :)