The Naked House

I can never be alone when I'm continuously bombarded with peculiar questions such as, who ate the video tapes and for what reason.

Anything and everything, is always someone else's fault in this house.

You, single handedly make me forget, while others may only make me slip and flouder. You can always find me repeating myself because I just forgot what I just said...

...I also hate the smell of the sweet hot rubber of your camomile incense, and when you're sick I demand you to stay in your double bed with a creamy feathered duvet wider than the red sea.

Nobody ever listens to me in this house.

I hate to admit, that I truly feel emotionally naked when I'm confronted by you. There is no denying that you have seen all, and there is no more escaping or U turns. You're smarter than I first expected... or anticipated?

I'm never alone when I want to be, in this house.

I don't want to play hide and seek or kiss chase, neither would I rather admire the setting sun or go for a long dreamy walk, hand in hand.

Let me mature, with your support, from this house.

None of this will matter, soon enough, again.
For when your privacy gets smothered and all there is to do is videos to watch, because you've already forgot how to conduct yourself, in this house.