House of Broken Spirits

I dwell in the house of broken spirits.

So much sadness, here in this house.

Shattered dreams hang like tattered curtains.

Chipped paint and peeling wallpaper on cockroach carriages ridden by giant mice

who snack on children’s spirits.

I dwell in the house of broken dreams where old ladies lie about past glory because no one is there to contradict them.

Here, babies are not allowed to dream because no one wants to see them get hurt.

I dwell in the house of broken dreams where I will do eternal penance, for never daring to chase a dream for being satisfied with great.

For being ok with way less than excellent, by someone else’s dream. I live in the house of broken spirits.

But I am not alone.

New ones come every day.

They always have and they always will.

When are you coming?

Don’t dream.

Don’t dare to chase a dream. Be happy with humdrum

I don’t want to be alone.