french doors to nowhere

Abandoned houses are always grey.

They are ensnarled in what once was and what will no longer be.   

 
 

French Doors to Nowhere is a site specific installation in Tallahassee, Florida. This abandoned house carries the burdens of multiple past lives;  past lives it truthfully once had and one, just one, meticulously and deviantly placed there. 

 
 

French Doors to Nowhere

Jeremy had an idea

He had this idea.

That he would move.

The he would move and grow.

Grow things. Grow apples maybe.

 

 

He had this hope that if maybe

by growing these things, this

stuff, he could grow into something too.

Something.

 

 

 

So he did move.

He moved into a house.

He moved into this house.

 

 

 

Only, it was not one house.

It was two.

It was two houses he pushed together,

over the course of three days.

 

 

 

 

He loved this house.

With the spiral staircase.

And the French doors that could lead him

anywhere.

 

 

 

There was that wallpaper he tried putting up.

The one that said “mint green” on the box,

but was more of a hospital gown green.

It was calming.

 

 

He never finished putting up that wallpaper.

He planted three corncobs and two front teeth

into his backyard.

The teeth for luck,

and the corncobs, well for corn of course.

 

 

He waited for the corn to grow.

He would pick at the lifeless wallpaper.

The one he never finished.

 

 

His time rotted away just like he did.

Just like those tools he had in the corner.

Covered in rust and empty aspirations.

He waited for that corn to grow.

 

 

He woke up the tenth Tuesday after rooting

his cobs into the moist soil.

He woke up knowing nothing would ever grow.

He woke up knowing he would never be something.

Something.

 

 

He planted this realization in his mind.

Just as he did the cobs.

Just as he did the teeth.

 

It must have been his warm body.

That let this realization grow.

Unlike that corn.

Because as he let it fester and rot away into his body

he started to sprout.

 

It started off just with one corn husk on his left ear lobe.

He tore it off.

It stung.

 

 

As more corn husks started sprouting,

the more he would have to rip off but the less it would

sting.

 

 

 

The husks kept growing.

He kept peeling them away.

He peeled so many off.

It didn’t hurt to anymore.

He peeled so many off.

 

 

 

The dried corn hucks still rattle in his abandoned house.