I want a house: A slummy, trashy piece of shit.
I want to live somewhere and fix it, bit-by-bit.
I want to be in solitude, with walls enclosed for myself.
I want to fix the house, the way I couldn’t fix my life.
I want to stock it with food,
And place stone walk-paths,
And build a porch of wood,
And mow the green grass.
I want to hang the art,
And rearrange
(
Read more... )
Comments 1
Reply
Leave a comment