I've never seen such a perfectly placed house
Sitting there, contently, mocking me on the street newly swept
Just a few fallen leaves remain on the manicured lawn
Only adding to its beauty
Calm winds blow the grass, rustle a wind chime with such a distinctly unique sound
Brusque and to the point in passing
Intimately warm and deeply gorgeous in intense observation
Soft stepping on the porch, through the main archway
Sweet omnipotence lurks in the high ceilings and sparkling chandeliers
Familiarity never felt so new
Up the staircase, through shades of nude and bold blood
Through passionately clear skies and understanding cremes
It all looks the same when you've been looking in black and white for so long
Rooms with no connective feeling
Hallways with distant and backwords whispers
Stubborn locks on passively aggressive kitchen cabinets
Tiled floors that burn the soles of your structure
Carpet that slithers over the walkways and up and down the exceptionally decorated walls
It smells of disappointment and anguish
So filled with sweat and sorrow and flashy rage
As if the very walls gorged on ragged and withered feelings, on tortured thoughts
So breathtakingly attractive from the outside
So abhorrently broken within
It remains on the street that you would never find unless you were looking for it
Looking for something, anything to give you a sense of permanence
I've always been searching for my sense of permanence
In life, and death, and eternity, and forever
Permanence is the golden coin locked away with all the other impossible things
Like ghostly souls and perfect answers and all-inclusive agreements
I'm never going to find it
And neither are you
A bitter truth to a sour reality that knowing isn't real
That fear will never be conquered, but neither will love
That beauty does not belong to the eye of the beholder, but instead to the object itself
That perfectly placed houses will never be homes
My chest is wrought with longing for a place that doesn't exist
No matter how far I go, or how hard I try, permanence does not reside in my body
Permanence does not reside in my head or my tongue
Not in my soul or in my ghost
Permanence lives in the nothingness of space and final feeling
There is no beginning and there is no end
There is solely solidarity now and never
Shackled to the idea that our bones are going to last long enough for somebody else to turn us into art
I don't know where we go when we stop breathing
I don't know if I'll be two-stepping in hell with Satan or waltzing with God in heaven
But if I am dancing, I won't have a partner
Or allowed a background of clouds or flames
If I can call anything permanence it's the questions without answers that we throw at the atmosphere
Maybe permanence is the question
Not the answer