Odd Couplets

From the rafters, something expected. What license 

You showed although recall I never asked.

I never asked for your perspiration or your chops.

Living in proximity meant half dying.

The strain of impending depth perception hurt.

I blurted out nothing except on paper.

Paper mirages filled the soon full house.

Did I say home; I intended house.

You have housed my indignation at least once.

Now I spar with ghosts living and gone.

Or you might proclaim my mind hell and gone.

It’s time to set the record sugar-cured.

A third of life, already sweet with sleep.

From the rafters the unexpected upkeep.