#household - Hello Poetry

The attic is cold The house is shut out The doors are closed And the windows are locked You still choose to sleep In the coldest room But you shiver and cry Wondering what to do The heater is warm But you stay far away Opening the window Letting the heat escape Yet you always say You're trying to change The lonely household Turning into your cave

0

6d ago

May 28, 2026 at 5:11 PM UTC

CH3CKM4T3

Attic room

The attic is cold The house is shut out The doors are closed And the windows are locked You still choose to sleep In the coldest room But you shiver and cry Wondering what to do The heater is warm But you stay far away Opening the window Letting the heat escape Yet you always say You're trying to change The lonely household Turning into your cave

16

I look at us, this broken mess we've become, and all I feel is anger— anger that we were supposed to be a unit, a team, a family— but we are nothing but pieces of something that doesn't exist anymore. You failed me. Each one of you. I'm lost in the rubble of what we were, in the emptiness you left behind when you choose your own needs over what we were supposed to share. I try to remember the good days, but I can't. Every happy memory feels like a lie now, a story I told myself to keep the pain at bay. I envy the people who have real families, who don't know the taste of hollow promises, who never feel the ache of knowing that the ones who are supposed to love you are the ones who destroy you the most. And you— you with your empty words and broken actions— you don't even see it, do you? How much you hurt me by pretending that everything was okay when it wasn't. You still don't get it. You still don't care. And the anger builds up, like fire in my chest, raging against the truth I've had to swallow: We will never be whole again. You broke us. And I hate you for it.

0

Mar 28, 2025

Mar 28, 2025 at 2:32 PM UTC

Alexandre

Fractured

I look at us, this broken mess we've become, and all I feel is anger— anger that we were supposed to be a unit, a team, a family— but we are nothing but pieces of something that doesn't exist anymore. You failed me. Each one of you. I'm lost in the rubble of what we were, in the emptiness you left behind when you choose your own needs over what we were supposed to share. I try to remember the good days, but I can't. Every happy memory feels like a lie now, a story I told myself to keep the pain at bay. I envy the people who have real families, who don't know the taste of hollow promises, who never feel the ache of knowing that the ones who are supposed to love you are the ones who destroy you the most. And you— you with your empty words and broken actions— you don't even see it, do you? How much you hurt me by pretending that everything was okay when it wasn't. You still don't get it. You still don't care. And the anger builds up, like fire in my chest, raging against the truth I've had to swallow: We will never be whole again. You broke us. And I hate you for it.

37

No energy ever dies. I put you near my bathroom sink, in the hope your energy tells me nice things in the morning.

0

Jun 11, 2020

Jun 11, 2020 at 2:00 PM UTC

jodie-whitchurch

Death of A Household

No energy ever dies. I put you near my bathroom sink, in the hope your energy tells me nice things in the morning.

4

1. Dust is constant. It is a symbol of time telling you that either something needs to be cleaned, or you need to take a picture. There will never be complete cleanliness so when people say "cleanliness is close to Godliness" promptly hand over an invitation to have dinner at your dusty house. And then show those people where you pray. Notice that sacred space has dust. 2. Chairs are complicated. They can have 4 legs, 5 legs, no legs, wheels on their legs. Chairs are such a wild forever changing species that we don't really have a good concept of what a chair is. Which begs the question, what is true chairness? Plato believed that somewhere somehow there is a perfect concept of such things. Which begs the question, what is it to be truly human? From where I stand, we all wear skin, breathe air, and hate high school anyway. 3. Appreciate your couch. I realized this at a young age when I figured out that dying means, never seeing a couch again. 4. The bed is not sacred. It is not a stronghold or sanctuary. It is the place you go when you are either done or satisfied with the world. 5. Windows are the windows of your house. It doesn't sound as good as eyes being the window to your soul but my point still stands. The windows are beautiful. And snowflakes freezing on them is a captured moment of nature being transparent. 6. Take a painting class. Learn how to make art on a canvas and hang that **** up. Buy a painting for no other reason other than that it costs more than $50. Travel and bring back a print and frame it. Learn to cross-stitch and hang that up too. The walls may change colour from time to time, but at least hang something on them. 7. Look for imperfection. When I was a kid I took a pencil and wrote in jagged penmanship "The end" at the bottom of my staircase. My mother, of course, scolded me for writing on the house, but for whatever reason, she kept the phrase there. Maybe because I knew the end had to be somewhere and I might as well end in the home I started in. 8. Buy refrigerator magnets that teach kids the alphabet. Organize them so that reading a message in the morning makes breakfast seem a little more inviting. And as a firm believer that breakfast is not a necessary meal, I too, need something in the morning to make me feel less alone. 9. Fill one closet with cleaning supplies. We may never get to the end of many tasks, but we can clean this house. Clean the cupboards, wash the windows, sweep the floor, write on the walls, just so you can erase it. And when you finish cleaning, and you bring all of your supplies to that closet, organize your closet. Notice that there is a small amount of dust on the shelves of the closet. 10. Work around the house, big or small, is never completely over.

0

Jan 21, 2018

Jan 21, 2018 at 2:27 AM UTC

Swingline

Things I learned from my household

1. Dust is constant. It is a symbol of time telling you that either something needs to be cleaned, or you need to take a picture. There will never be complete cleanliness so when people say "cleanliness is close to Godliness" promptly hand over an invitation to have dinner at your dusty house. And then show those people where you pray. Notice that sacred space has dust. 2. Chairs are complicated. They can have 4 legs, 5 legs, no legs, wheels on their legs. Chairs are such a wild forever changing species that we don't really have a good concept of what a chair is. Which begs the question, what is true chairness? Plato believed that somewhere somehow there is a perfect concept of such things. Which begs the question, what is it to be truly human? From where I stand, we all wear skin, breathe air, and hate high school anyway. 3. Appreciate your couch. I realized this at a young age when I figured out that dying means, never seeing a couch again. 4. The bed is not sacred. It is not a stronghold or sanctuary. It is the place you go when you are either done or satisfied with the world. 5. Windows are the windows of your house. It doesn't sound as good as eyes being the window to your soul but my point still stands. The windows are beautiful. And snowflakes freezing on them is a captured moment of nature being transparent. 6. Take a painting class. Learn how to make art on a canvas and hang that **** up. Buy a painting for no other reason other than that it costs more than $50. Travel and bring back a print and frame it. Learn to cross-stitch and hang that up too. The walls may change colour from time to time, but at least hang something on them. 7. Look for imperfection. When I was a kid I took a pencil and wrote in jagged penmanship "The end" at the bottom of my staircase. My mother, of course, scolded me for writing on the house, but for whatever reason, she kept the phrase there. Maybe because I knew the end had to be somewhere and I might as well end in the home I started in. 8. Buy refrigerator magnets that teach kids the alphabet. Organize them so that reading a message in the morning makes breakfast seem a little more inviting. And as a firm believer that breakfast is not a necessary meal, I too, need something in the morning to make me feel less alone. 9. Fill one closet with cleaning supplies. We may never get to the end of many tasks, but we can clean this house. Clean the cupboards, wash the windows, sweep the floor, write on the walls, just so you can erase it. And when you finish cleaning, and you bring all of your supplies to that closet, organize your closet. Notice that there is a small amount of dust on the shelves of the closet. 10. Work around the house, big or small, is never completely over.

11