Home

Home.

Down the road, across the universe,

my body goes, and I stay.

My heart aches to belong here.

It urges my lust for nostalgia.

But The nuance of this notion,

lacks the lustre it once had.

For me, all that glitters is gone.

The silver lining, has faded.

Why would I yearn for such an obvious detriment?

Why do I make my bed in a place I wish not to lay?

I always thought this was my home.

But I know that home isn’t here or there.

Home is where you make it.

It’s the place you became the person you were meant to be.

It’s not the echo against walls closing in on you.

It’s not the place where you bury yourself in a crowd of a thousand dirty faces.

This place, I’ve called home,

Only tightens my grip on the coat tails of the past.

It steps on the toes of my future.

It laughs in the face of hope.

That’s just it.

Home is not a place at all.

It’s a feeling.

Home is inside of us.

And I’ve always looked for it in the wrong places.

I’ve always Looked behind to find nothing but shadows of doubt.

It’s time I look ahead.

It’s time to find my place, my home.

I will find it,

And that’s where I’ll always be.

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Liquid Romance

Liquid romance.

Fluid, in nature.

Deplorable, in hindsight.

How many times will I give way

To the relentless waves

Of these half empty oceans I dive into?

Head first.

I never even test the waters,

I just dive Right in,

And let the undertow take me.

Turning Over 

I’ve always let the light chase me,

And I’ve always let darkness take me,

Hoping that the light will soon catch up,

that I’ll stop and it’ll pass right through me,

to lead me through the dark of night.

It’s been so long since the light graced this black and white congregation.

A long while since it kissed the faces I’ve buried here.

But here I am.

A bone yard, a cemetery,

a ghost town.

An empty person, full of old bones.

Old skeletons.

Lifelessness besieges me.

Life, beseeches me.

It urges me,

To transcend this phobia, the darkness.

And let life light me like it once did.

There is nothing to fear.

I can’t keep living like yesterday was my last,

I’ll live like today is.

So I’ll bury this face,

In the boneyard

One last time,

and I’ll choose to live-

to follow the light all the way back.

I’ll transform this ghost town into a triumphant city,

And I’ll only come back here to visit memories.

The boneyard, that is.

Whole Together

Pierce me again,

With those eyes like arrows.

I love the way they stab me,

straight through my heart,

just like the first time.

That very first time I was split in half.

The first time my life was someone else’s too.

And how I long for this look again.

How I yearn for the tension

that pulled us together.

Without it,

my life is my own.

And I am still whole.

I am still here-

Full,

but not complete.

Left with but a hole in my bleeding heart.

So it bleeds on,

a vacant room inside my soul.

And I have tried to fill it with another…

Another set of Bright eyes

to sink to blank stares.

Another youthful friendship

to age too quickly.

It would seem this room belongs to one,

and no other.

It would seem this heart still bleeds for old arrows,

these eyes long to be seen again,

This Room wants to be full again.

And it could be ours once more,

Full,

And complete.

So I can be half,

And we can be whole,

together.

More Than Houses 

Something solid,

sturdy to stand on.

That’s what I need.

Something more than houses

made from straw.

A floor I can stomp on relentlessly,

walls I can lean on hopelessly.

I want something built to last,

and to hold the weight of the ins and outs-

the ups and downs.

We don’t need a mansion,

just walls to lean on, and a floor to stomp on-

a solid roof to live under.

Because I would rather sleep in a box made from stone,

than a castle made from sand.

I would rather sleep 

without the floor washing away,

or walls of straw collapsing.

Just something small

and sturdy to stand on-

to lean on.

Because big things don’t matter

if they can so easily be swept away.

Red to Blue

You’re all I think about

I can be anywhere, at any time

And nothing will suffice

Something won’t even suffice anymore

And why do I still see you?

Though, I gaze upon your soul through stained glass eyes

I see all of your colours and cracks

Splattered on the wall as the light seeps through

Pain by pane, red to blue, the pieces tell more than a story

It’s An eloquent ode to a bigger picture

But I’ll never seep through

I’ll never see the other side

But it’s still worth looking