(this is an OLD one, but i spent a week at home and was reminded of it. the spacing's all off here on tribe, but i think the meaning's still pretty much the same.)
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I thought I heard your voice outside just now
or inside, upstairs maybe in some room I don’t go in
like my brother’s room because his world is on his floor
and I don’t want to step on something and break it
because I might be held responsible for that kind of thing
and I’m not ready for that
or my parents’ room which is breakable in a different way
with the almost white just vacuumed carpet
and I don’t want to leave a footprint because they will
know I was in their world and I’ve tried so hard to
not be a part of it
or the guest room with the outdated computer and my mom’s
sewing machine and dress patterns and clothes in the closet
from another time, from another life it seems and I’d like
to go in there and try them on but I won’t fit and I don’t
know what would happen if I did
or my room which is so bright and has pink flowers even though
I don’t particularly like pink and has so many posters I can’t
tell where the wall begins or at least I think that sometimes

and if it’s my room why can’t I take it all down,
put away the pink and the posters and the high school mementos
and paint the walls green like a forest that I can walk into
and lose my way and not worry about being rescued
or hearing anyone’s voice
or seeing things familiar
or recognizing the path
or being recognized on it



(Phew)
For a minute there I lost myself