(no subject)
i see the house perfectly in mind. as if i've never even left it. you walk up the drive way, turn left to open the screen door, turn the knob of the door to enter. the scent of children, smoke, dogs, paper and a small siamese cat find their way into your nostrils, tangoing up to the brain until they're recognized. if you go right, the stairs lead you downstairs into the basement. fresh laundry smell beats inside of you. but if you make your way forward, a soft scent, a perfume called angel, lingers in the air. to the left is a room cluttered left and right with toys. green walls, a tv blaring cartoons. but the right is a big kitchen table, too big for the kitchen, hidden by stacks of completed homework, paid and unpaid bills, advertisement, ash trays, cups, trays and snack food. right across the table is a big fridge, always containing sunny d, next in line is an old stove, followed by the L shaped kitchen cupboards once you make your way past the sink, to your right is another set of stairs, leading upstairs. the stairs are cluttered with childrens clothing and toys. but its a welcoming aroma. the laughter of the kids still echo in my ears sometimes. the first room you walk into is a young boys, his race car bed lays on the floor, books are all over, no one knows if he reads them or throws them. an entrance to an ice cold attic is visible, but hardly visited. to the left is a pink room, clearly for a young princess, it's pretty tidy and quite too chilly for a young girl of six. let me take you back downstairs, where we first entered, instead of going straight forwards, we're gonna make a strong right down the stairs. bags of dog food, a washer, a dryer and clothing is the first thing to catch the eye. but once you're down there, an enclosed room, with a sliding door that has holes in it from a drunken knife throwing night is straight ahead. there's a dresser, and some hoodies hanging above it, once the door is passed, to the right is a bed on milk crates, a zero hoodie hangs above the bed, the words i love you dustin, forever and always, with selected dates on them are written all over the wall by that hoodie. I wonder if those words are still there. next to the bed is a trashcan, book shelf and a place for dirty laundry. a built in sorta thing that the tv is sitting on is aligned against the wall leading to the end of the room. next to it is an old couch, next to that is another dresser closing the room up in a complete square, where a letter i wrote use to sit, in the envolope i made, which was also there, not sure if it is still there, lays with wifebeaters boxers socks and shorts. on top of that is a boombox type thing connected to enormous speakers that make things shake in that house. next to the enclosed room is an open room, where various traffic signs are nailed to the wooden wall. in the center of the open room is a huge weight lifting machine. amps to the left, two guitars, a small circular couch, and a square table pushed off to the side, forgotten. with belts, picks, guitar tabs, books and things layed all over it. then theres a small dirty manly bathroom, where i've shared many showers with a boy who taught me how to live and love at one point. on the other side of the wall, is a treadmill, bulk food, a computer desk, with empty vodka and whiskey bottles in the drawers, a couch cozily fitted into the corner, and on the other side of that wall is a bar, but it's never used, except for the cat, whose litter box is hidden there. next to the bar is a little basketball net thing used for children, but we used it more than they did.