I Live in My Head

I live in my head,
A cluttered old house;
Memories tacked to the walls
Stacked in corners,
Unavoidable dusty heaps
I bump as I pass by.
I finger tattered edges,
Turn a faded page;
Monument to those
Who visit
But never stay.

I live in my head,
A silent old house,
Full of words I speak to myself;
Insulation against loneliness,
A native language
No one speaks but me.
I hear no answering echo
From outside.
Even when I step out on the porch ,
Call from the door,
Nodding,
They rush away.

I live in my head,
A crumbling home.
With broken doors
I replace again and again
To let people in,
Repairing cracked windows,
So I can watch life go by.
Carpet crumbles underfoot;
I stumble and catch a rail
That breaks under my hand.
I fall.