I live in a house of debris, where dust and cobwebs are my only companions, where the ceiling is falling to pieces and rust covers every metallic surface that could provide a cold sensation to my palms. Everything is falling apart around me, I sleep over a pile of death and garbage, in darkness until the day comes.
In the midst of all this ugliness, all this destruction and collapse, I see you clearly. With my eyes covered in tears, I can see you. Because I know that you live in a house much like mine, full of dirt and chaos. Because I know that, no matter where you are, you and I are the same.
I am sedated, I cannot feel at all. Until I think of you and am overcome by a surge of tenderness, an almost immediate desire to hold your hand. There, in that same house full of despair and fog that we both inhabit. There, in the depths of our minds.