IF THE BODY WERE A HOUSE
Oct 23
1 min read
By Hannah "Hunter" Hull
mine is
all facade.
A trompe l’oeil painted to please a passing king.
If the body were a house
mine is
a nest
that everything good has flown.
If the body were a house (which it is)
mine is
abandoned.
Good for the occasional squat party, but not much else.
Or,
so derelict
it’s worth nothing but the plot on which it crumbles.
Which is nowhere.
But you’re welcome to it anyway.
I didn’t know
how sick I was.
When bad is normal
you don’t notice
that it’s here.
I woke up
one day
went downstairs
and sat on the sofa.
The pain
was back
and had been
for a few days.
Slowly
I realised
today
I would kill myself.
The foundations
had been laid
quietly
unnoticed.
The obvious
conclusion
waiting
to be revealed.
Unplanned.
No note.
No more need.