My House
I’m staking my claim.
I’m laying it down nice and plain so that all you detractors and naysayers can read it and weep like the immature bottle fed babies that you are.
THIS…this is MY House.
No it is not the place that I reside or where I lay my kids to sleep or where I kiss my wife at night but still.
My house.
So walk your walk and jabber your jaws. Fill out your lists and cross off your chores. Make sure to report every single wrong deed
but remember while you’re standing tall with erect fingers jabbing orders to your lessers who despise the way you vomit disgusts at them that you will never, NEVER, never have their respect.
They’ll never call you friend.
They’ll never have your arms around them in their times of sorrow.
They’ll never look you in the eyes with trust filled tears, flowing freely like the bottle of whiskey they use to mask their fears of YOU.
because this isn’t your house,
it’s MY house.
and I keep it clean, I manage it well, I love it like Dorothy loves Kansas.
Like ears love music.
Like Christians love Jesus
Like words love paper and voices love speaking THAT is how much I love my house
I’d invite you in but I see you’ve already made yourself at home.