This poem is one of two tributes to the book House of Leaves which I wrote during my freshmen year in college. If you have read the book it might make a bit more sense, but then again, since the book is also largely incomprehensible it might not. Either way, please enjoy and I will follow up with the second tribute titled "It's Just a Staircase."
god is our house
and he has killed himself
ripped himself apart
insides outside
but a house which is the accumulation
of my fears and anxieties
does it deserve to thrive?
a fuel to the fire which was already smoldering ash
its windows into the void beyond
i can’t shake the feeling that something
stares back from that darkness
i see only infinity
a simple oblivion which should have sufficed
until i realized
i tore this house apart myself
limb from limb, board from beam
because i’m tired
and because nobody deserves to live in that place
a home?
only if you call your weaknesses home
which is why i had to do it
i couldn’t dismiss that labor
i couldn’t put it down
i couldn’t resist digging into the color
i couldn’t stop myself
i couldn’t help
within the space of a moment
that lifetime between two frames
shattered
because i knew that they all had their own problems
i knew that
i felt it
and i couldn’t stop
i had already descended the stairway
i didn’t know what was down there
i knew what i thought i heard
what i thought
minutes before
or was it hours
weeks
even years?
who knows how long i pondered
sinking deeper into that dark below
the path i had created
disassembling itself piece by piece
no way back up
because it wanted to keep me
but as i’ve already said it was all of my worst
it was
right up until that last moment
after the rope snaps
that falling up
when the whole volume had burned
leaving me nothing but that blackness and ash
surrounded by the void looking back
that’s when i knew
i had to
so i did
i destroyed that house
i left nothing
i killed god