A Hypothetical Idiom
By Josh S.
"If These Walls Could Talk.."
A Moment
There's naked courting my parts, At 3 in the morning it's dark
conceited with boring remarks, even when snoring should start
I stood sharp in secrecy, more than just my surroundings
My renting's astounding, abounding poundings keep amounting
the up keep is lousy, just shouting & crowding, I'd reach for an outing
Thoughts bounding, so many years here, but who's counting?
Luckily I know lots about things, back when I undertook visitors..
I may not stand tall like I used to, but I'd still make a good listener
A Story
A couple years back, I hosted a few genuine Villains..
Attentive, brilliant, back when guests sent you in millions
They had black masks & blue prints, musics & nude flicks
heist plans & a nice van, but I couldn't give two shits
I enjoyed the company, no matter how ruthless
But with the blistering cold, I doubted that shoe fits
The day of the crime, they arrived I'd say, on time..
with three bags, but they weren't safe in my confines
They had to stash the cash, & leave me behind
I'm glad I got that off my chest, to depart any grime..
Lonely
The air is thin, cobwebs need oxygen to clean my toxic vents
Lack of sound and conversation, observations anonymous..
No one left to hang on to, just nails of empty portraits
A never ending song with out a chorus, No importance
No person or item to lean on me when needed for it..
an evening fortress, as the dust settles & forces every Orpheus
With every memory, drunken tendencies burned in it
It's more obvious now, I'm in need of something permanent..
Introduction
As you enter its presence, mind your temper and entrance
It's all about first impressions, fung shway's the worst invention
Each step is adventurous, just mind the aging wood
At night it bends and shows its wear, just as aging would
I've gathered all the details that separate the rooms
you can decorate the wounds and excavate my tombs
Use my shelter to segregate the moods, & take in the looks
& every action or whisper will add straight to the books..
a long never ending novel, a family's house from a brothel
Always replacing my broken limbs as they add to the model
My mind's boggled, bottled, I wish I could free fall and box
Put use to a see-saw, see-aww, seize the sun and walk..
retrieve rocks, even receive shocks, but these halls would rot
So i'd more than welcome speech, if only these walls could talk..
...
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