the blue house is sad
beings occupy its rooms
they are dead, their movements lethargic
how do they stay there without complaint?
blankets squeeze corners, trash lay beneath furniture
the stairs are stained with spilt pop
the floors are creaking from years of use
it whines but no one hears it
there's nothing it can do but sit
the zombies roam the house anyways
its bowels continue to be peppered
with gunk and disgust
the house wished to vomit
extract all the debris from its mouth
but it'd never have a choice in the matter
neighbors have moved in and out
families with good people would move in
they flourished with attendees
their walls were home to people who'd eventually move on
but here, in the blue house, there was nothing
flushing out
the evil which dwells in it still
it asks its neighbors what it's like
and they answer giddily
and they sleep well that night
within them, they have good families
they will sleep good,
their children will go well fed,
and they will be okay,
because there is no one tripping in the night,
over a dead cat in the hallway,
over stairs that lead into darkness
in the blue house, there is yelling,
rebounding off the walls, making so much racket
so much, so much, so much
and soon they might leave
soon the blue house could have peace
but it would wait for years, till either it was destroyed
or the last disgusting member of the family who destroyed it
destroyed themselves
yet it would happen,
sooner than it had ever thought