this old house.

sometimes, i wander through the cramped hallways of my head, boxes stacked alongside the walls - as i haven't made myself comfortable quite yet.
i wander through and notice the peeling paint, the rusted curves of the doorknobs, and how it's all gone to shit without him around. how i haven't paid attention to the state of this house between my two temples since ... well.
i walk through the corridors and search around for some lightswitch or window, wiping away cobwebs from those secrets of his that i still keep tucked under all those stories i tell.
because i'm thinking it's time to do a little renovation, using all this space and time and air as a solvent, a bleach.
this could be a pretty nice place with a good gutting and a fresh coat of paint, taking care not to crack the foundation, taking care not to ruin what he left me.