It’s my living quarters, a place to stay. It’s bricks and mortar. Vacant space I sit in bored from day to day. It’s windows. Doors. It’s smoke-stained ceilings. It’s timber floors in no way heated. It’s cold, grey evenings. The damp is rising. This lonely feeling just amplifies it. It’s standard sized. The lighting works. The bathrooms fine, I don’t mind the dirt. There’s no blinds or curtains, roof tiles are missing. No outside conversions. No stylish kitchen. Just piles of dishes I’ve left to clean. There are nice additions. There are steps that creak. There’s a bed to sleep in but the springs are broken. There’s expensive leaks and you think I’m joking! The sink has mould in, but the stairs have carpet, and this is home. This is where my heart is.