This house swallows everything.

Good times don't come back,
Bad times stay stuck to the ceiling, festering unwanted feelings.
Regret coats the walls accompanying thick indecision, it piles up on every surface. Covers everything we own.
Denial stays encrusted in these wooden floors so heavy it can only be scrubbed out. Our passion has laid dormant for so long it can only be scrubbed out.
We take showers everyday so hot it leaves pieces of us in the tiled walls like mold.
There is no room for us here, no space, no corner to feel clean in. We don't even own this place we have infected. That we can't bring ourselves to let go of.
There are ghosts in the bricks that surround us.
Whenever I leave, I carry one with me on my back; shelter the weight of a broken family in the seams of my pocket.
I'm always losing **** here, but when I'm gone, when I'm as far away as I could get, I remember. And I wish I didn't.
Sometimes I wish I had no home to come back to. No place to sit and stew in all these emotions. No place to quiver, no where to shake inside of myself. It's too loud to do anything else.
This house swallows everything.

I wish it would swallow me too.