The paint is peeling off the walls,
Spilling onto the floor.
Their patience is running out,
Trying to catch up with mine
Which embarked on a cross-country race
Several years ago.
The walls are talking a mile a minute,
Spilling out their guts,
Onto the floor,
Making it slippery,
Egg-shell slippery.
I can't walk under these conditions anymore!
The home is turning into a house,
Spilling its warmth
Onto the cold, hard floor.
Creating in me a chemical reaction
As I have
A potent, important revelation:
It's time to move out.