the house that built jack

It never matters the state of mind or the place and time when that ghost comes creeping from behind.

It is before I know, then I knew that that apparition is hiding in me and attaches to you.

While I have left that tiny house, that house still creaks deep inside me.

I can never eradicate that dark mold climbing from that painful basement, but I keep it tucked alive yet small underneath the stairs because I will never go down there again to find myself in that crawl.

It is merely a house and not my mind.

It is a structure that built me but now I rewind.

I will pull each floor board out one by one, ripping off that roof and letting in the sun.