This house made of brick and stone,
glass and wood,
now crumbles to the earth beneath me.
But this house was empty
long before it was gone.

The people inside,
the people
the people
the monsters,

They ripped open their lungs
and filled themselves with smoke.
They  ripped open their veins
and filled themselves with poison.
They grew sickly and cold
with black, sunken eyes.
They starved themselves to the bone
until that was all they were.
Feet shuffled against dark-stained hardwood floors,
yet they never touched the ground.

Ghosts.
Ghosts who couldn't sleep,
for the darkness was no longer home.
Ghosts who couldn't breathe,
for all they inhaled was smoke.
Ghosts who screamed.
Ghosts who cried.
Ghosts who never made a sound.

Holding on until fingers grew limp.
This house was empty
long before it was gone.

I know the place where the clouds collide
And the oars are lightning bolts
That you use to steer through the starry skies
When the milky way tide sends your cumulus boat
On a whirlwind through the night

I know the place where the moonbeams are carved
And then cast into the sky
To light your path on the nightscape sea
As you race through your nightmares
And drift though your dreams