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Home Matters

Traces of existence
dirty dishes stacked higher than books
dirty dishes more than anything else
years passed at this address
chipped walls and worn straw mats
mould accumulates on faded paint
drops dripping from the ceiling
the condensing of our lives
into a 1LDK – big Mac without the cheese
tired objects hanging around
gathering the dust of our dreams.

we’re growing into this place
spreading out monstrous wings
filling spaces with the evidence
wearing down the furniture’s resolve
with the using up of our bodies
we’re in need of renovation
just a paint job, a face-lift
they don’t build ‘em like they used to
structure’s still firm
resilient in earthquakes
which counts for more
than magazine spreads of all-white décor.

this place cleans up like a 50 year-old man
a little banged up but holding firm
of course buildings outlive us
stand on in our ruin
watching our soft skin dissolve
with apathetic eyes
live through wars and genocide
infused with the evidence of our history:
the fires of feasts
cold emptiness of hunger
bruises of rage
wear and tear of spirit meeting matter.
 

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