I'll always wait for the glasses to spill before I take them out.
I'll always empty my closets and let everything sleep on the bed.
I'll sit on the edge and have a staring contest with the mirror.
I'll always surrender.
The fan is buzzing.
There's a web in every corner.
Furniture is the devil's work.
I will always fall in love with walls and floors.
I hear the highways and I don't want to be here.
I'll always be homesick but only houses exist.
Homes are a myth.