Shithole

At night as he walks into his house He can feel each and every broken part of it like it is his own body His eyes blink like the flickering fridge light ready to pop with each open swing of the door His heart beats like the cool rattle echoing from the worn down radiator A deep inhale, caught in his throat Worried that everything may crumble down with each passing exhale The leaky faucet as always echoing through the barren hallways The crack in the plaster flooring, yet again looking like it grew over the past week The messy pile of dirty clothes stashed away in the corner of his room for the past 4 months He is too scared to hire a repairman because he believes no one else deserves to see how run down the place is Let alone showing some friends and family around, letting them spend the night in one of the guest rooms He is utterly alone in his shit hole he calls home And he knows that he made it this way