I built this house

Hi, my name's Travis.
Welcome to my residence.
It's been in existence for 30 years and a few months more.
This is the first stop on the tour,
Hold on, let me unlock the front door.
Oh, please leave your shoes on the floor
so you don't get any dirt on the metaphors.
Please close the door behind you.
Ignore the indentions, too.
That was just my positive attitude
trying to force its way through.
It does that from time to time
but I gotta keep it outside
because when positive thoughts
get inside this box
they intertwine with all my faults
and make everything seem fine.
So I keep the extra locks
locked because this house only has room for negative thoughts.

But I digress so let's continue the tour
and move on past the foyer
into the living quarter.
Please make yourself at home and rest your feet on the unloved seat
or kick up your legs on that uncomfortable recliner.
The t.v. works but there's no picture
and it's always too low to hear
and anything I do hear is muffled and unclear
so I don't spend much time here.
Mmmm...smell that?  It's coming from the kitchen
That's my new invention
made from 1/2 part low self esteem and 1/2 part self loathing solution
It's great for my depression,
but it always gives others mind-indigestion.
Which is kind of like normal indigestion
except the brain cells explode, not the intestine.
OOOOkkkkk...let's get out of that digression
and keep moving before we lose focus in this confusion.
I do apologize for these distractions.
Where were we?
Oh, the recipe!
It is a tasty treat be we must hurry.
These walls will fall soon to make room for a new fantasy
because I'm thinking of expanding.
Maybe add a basement or a Study.
Anything is possible when you're crazy.

Please go left into the Dining Room.
Yes, I know it looks like just a chair and a broom.
But, actually, it's not a broom.
It's a big, expensive table in a costume.
My mind needs a lot of room to consume
the thoughts on my plate.
It needs a lot of room to regurgitate
the negative thoughts into a mental womb
where they can gestate
until the thoughts break
through into a form I can use
to truly regret every fragment
of thought my brain gives birth to.
Are you getting the idea yet? 
Am I the most fucked up person you've ever met?
Even if you say not I won't believe it.
That's part of being a mental reject.

Let's go visit
the last room in this establishment.
Ooooh yeeeaaahhhhh, here we are, where all the magic happens.
Like the disappearing life and the invisible orgasms
from the involuntary enchantments of abstentions.
Yep! It's a mind-boggling bewitchment of inactions...
Sigh..........
OK, that's it for this house.
I hope you feel better about yourself now get the fuck out.
What the hell?  Where've you gone?
I've been talking to myself for how long?
I assume you've already gone home
to give thanks to the normalness of your throne...
I'm so messed up, I'm still talking to myself and it's the end of the fucking poem...