A Thousand Thoughts In An Empty House

Empty house, I'm alone again.

There are too many thoughts swirling around in my head. I need to find peace with them, welcome them into my home, my inner being must let them intertwine and become one.

It's so cold in this house, it's cold and lonely and empty. An empty house is no home, the shadows hug the walls, the light has long faded but the ivy still grows. The empty house consumes me. It wraps itself around my lonely heart and slowly it tugs. Pulling gently enough for me not to notice, but within time something breaks. My heart is ripped from my chest and as hard as I try, I cannot reclaim it. It slips from my fingers and skids along the floor to thump against the wall. A trail of blood, it's wake.

Loneliness breeds thoughtfulness; a sour taste in the back of my throat. Too much to think about can send a man crazy. He may have been a somewhat disjointed soul previously, but his strange charisma is heightened by the sheer amount of thoughts jarring his subconscious. To find peace with them is to let them run wild and wild thoughts are a dangerous beast.