Structure

The dishes sing in the shower.

The laundry sleeps in the bath.

If you stand on your head

You might see my couch

cosy in the hammock of my self,

my television is the abyss that stairs back.

Outside the ponderous extractor fans hum

and satellite dishes dream of the stars.

These walls pulse,

their corners as natural as scar tissue,

a home at home around only myself. 

Reviews

[.]

~ haha...!!
~ black humour shimmering in unique imagery...