Houses

Somehow
Every house I live in seems to
Take the same texture

Paper
Peels when I enter
Any room and what it once concealed
Lath and plaster
Shows like dirty underwear
Under a torn skirt

Not only that
But things get scattered
How can I
Hold walls together when the bricks
Keep falling out

I sit in the centre
Of every house I live in
And the old tattered
Husk of place expands
In every heavy wind

Somehow out and out
Of sight almost until
What was all outside
Is inside really.