Home

And you keep seeping into me
Like rain from cracks of the ceiling
Like the memory of a childhood fable
That I have just learnt to forget
I scoop out traces of your voice
From the whirlpool in my palm
I’m on my hands and knees, it’s almost too dark to see
I run from living room out onto the street
Hop onto buses before they come down to a stationary speed
I dress up in nice colours, and learn to speak in a certain dialect
I spend seasons trying to pretend that I’m not in need of help
I sing songs out of tune, of despair and refrain
I sing about you, with a certain kind of weakness
I try to escape the house that drowns in me
But, I’m home and this is my retreat
I let it kill me, I let it kill me.