Feb 2013
My home is not a product
My room is not for sale
My stove is not a bakery
Nor my yard a barbecue
My country is invaded
These strangers in a strange land
Their horses stomp their hooves
As if they own the stables
Their prostitutes stomp
Their heels and ****
In the bed I make each morning
I continue ghosting on the porch
The sun is not my friend
Nor my enemy
He is a battle over my home
My room is not for sale
My stove is not a bakery
Nor my yard a barbecue
My country is invaded
These strangers in a strange land
Their horses stomp their hooves
As if they own the stables
Their prostitutes stomp
Their heels and ****
In the bed I make each morning
I continue ghosting on the porch
The sun is not my friend
Nor my enemy
He is a battle over my home
I wrote this while people were walking around during an 'open house' while we were trying to sell our house. We took it off the market after we got tired of *so* many strangers coming through our house, but we might put it back on later this year
