My blood is glue
Boiling under roof tile skin,

Under the judgmental sun
Waiting for rain to come.

My house is the aftermath
Of heaven falling straight to hell,

The adhesive peels,
Revealing the mold that we breathe.

I am in need
Of renovations that will

Stake me down, down
And ready to settle.

No more plans, no more revisions,
Just one final teardown

And a newly found
Foundation

That will keep me grounded
And satiated.