Rock-Bottom Dwelling

A home is wherever night finds you, even at rock bottom.

I live with two friends
In a lonely old house
A sad looking box
Smashed thin by the land.

Scared eyes at each crack
Tell tales of a mouse
That shared for so long
Pale pleasures with man.

Its doors scream aloud
Each time they are touched
And scare all the insects
Which live on the block.

The shutters complain
For lack of retouch
And wild goes the spiders
That spin round the clock.

The house looks like death
In every respect
Its walls are too tired
To stand straight for long.

The roof drips, the floor sinks,
You’ll never suspect
For lips on their way out
Sing sweet songs along.

My friends dread the pall
And crack jokes at night
But just as we laugh loud
We fall sad again.

Deep down in our hearts
Are scars held too tight
And if times change someday
They’ll come right again.