Rocks in my apartment,
I don't clean.

You see, the fluffy pillows
host a party tonight,
seems like all my enemies
are invite.
There's blood in the floor, indeed.

Music captures the shaky windows,
curtains dancing in the backround,
tragedy hits the door
right from the shadows.

I don't want to be here.
Listening is painfull,
watching gets knives in my lungs,
the guests are laughing on me.
Anxiety says hi.

The house shouts "Welcome",
please,
I only need sadness for my art.