House of Nails

this house of nails bleeds hot

with blood fresh-drawn from veins

bursting with promise and promises

and desire and desirous

delirium brought on by nights

spent shedding tears and screams

into pillows that once smothered

and snuffed at a light long lost

or a lamp long dimmed

this house of bones shakes and rattles

at the slightest hint of hope

long-since run as dry as the starch-white

material that gives the house its name

it bends and warps in cardboard breezes

singing melancholy songs and hymns

to the church beside that hasn't had

members in years

this house of salt stands dry and barren

stricken into form by a builder large

on wrath and small on mercy

it stands square at the corner of no

and you don't deserve it anyway

it hurts the eyes and sucks arid

any who dare enter and stay

abandon all hope does it no justice

this house of chains is anchored

in the bedrock of respect hard-earned

through months of careful navigation

though now it falters and sways

violent to one side eagerly

this house is mine and mine to live in

this house is built from what i had

this house is made from tools i know

this house is all i have