HOUSE OF GHOSTS

… and I multiply my stuff: an uncanny shade,
Underneath the tangle of cobwebs, emmet holes.
Advance my steps; pioneer in the house of ghosts,
None except me, and my bachelor sloth-mates.

The shelter has a vault with a rat sunk teeth,
Onto that is an exegesis of teak,
Rather an exaggerated furnish on its debilitated affairs.
Plywood and cardboard chunks are in-compatibly
Plugged-in into the compartmental square.

Everything is in utter ramshackle.
Among the crevices infinite pops-up
The savage dust of dates, in deluxe.

A song on stone camaraderie by the wall dwellers.
On the occasion of morn and the contrary,
Sleep & the contrast, we have a march and a parade.
Living the subaltern lives from the Father’s age.
Yup, I’m talking about them, the real lessors of the house.

We are paying a double rent, once in a month to
The lord of the house and in abundance
To the lords of the wall. If not, they violate.
Rush as the electric tide in a wire.
Besides them my chums to whom
I’m sharing my food and bed with,
Are too the species of microscopic discern.