i'm dead yet still i'm here

The logs now dimished and almost ash

Sit in the old fireplace 

This house 

So old but not as old as i 

Lets out its own unique goodbye 

In the creaks and the moans as the old timbers settle down 

The phone now covered with dust 

Sits so lonely 

No longer is it loved

No more conversations are heard 

Just peace and serenity perfectly preserved 

The windows old with flaky paint 

The hinges rusted weathered with time 

The wallpaper droops curled at the edges 

Tithering on the edge of falling to its death 

The old front door hangs but on one hinge 

And when their is a breeze 

You can hear it sing 

Nobody knocks on this door anymore 

The knocker sags held with just one screw 

The plaster is like sand 

The walls would be easy to put through 

But its home to me

And in that ripped and haggered chair i sat and cried 

And my body ceased to exist 

And my feet sat in a pool of my own piss 

I think you get the jist 

Of what i have become 

No legs are here to run 

Just a spirit of sorts bound to these four walls  shackled  to this place until these bricks shall fall