Just 24” x 79
this somber tiny-house of mine
built of satin, brass and pine
a bullet shaped capsule buried in time
I care little about it’s decor
place a photo of Kay in, whom I adore
and maybe a book by Louis L’amour
reminders of what was loved before
’Cause surely someday the forever winds
Will worry away the earth and send
my tiny-house up to the surface again
so the future might see how it ends for them
A glimpse of eternity
She has had the dream for as long as she can remember. It is so real when it happens -- the silence, the shadows, the change in the air upon her skin, the fear that turns the blood to ice in her veins so that she can no longer breathe, nevermind move, or run. The terror that grows as the shadows slither slowly down the walls, across the floor, ever closer, till she is lost in a vast nothingness. Till she is not even a memory.
When she awakens, for a brief moment she is still enshrouded, held by the steel grip of fear, blinded by the residue of sleep that holds her yet in its grasp. And then, a sun ray pierces her sightless eyes, and the night is forgotten. Another day awaits.
She had the dream so many times, she began to believe it a memory her mind would not let her forget.
Today, she learned that it was neither a nightmare nor a buried memory.
It was gift, really. A glimpse of what would be.
What will be.
The darkness of infinity glides silently, swiftly merging with her essence, leaving behind the empty, dreamless husk.
I used to think that I would find a place
Where I didn't have to hide my true face
Where I could be loud and obnoxious, dancing wherever I want
Saying what's really on my mind, not confirming to a single theme or font
I've searched far and wide, ending always with the wrong person
Losing belief that I will find where faith in myself will not worsen
It seems to me that all people do is tell me where I could be better
Constantly critiquing my every move, unknowingly adding a fetter
After more reflection I have finally found a place I can really call my own
I may not be much but I sure love me and that's why I'm my forever home.
I Just Wanted A Hermitage
You ever see that nature documentary where all the hermit crabs line up on the beach, biggest to smallest, and they all swap shells? It's mesmerizing and Utopian to watch; each timid crustacean who outgrew it's current dwelling gets a new one to spread out in; perfect. comfy. till next year that is. (I do wonder about the biggest crab though... it's not as though he shrank back to the start of the line is it?)
Anyway, some part of me was naively hoping that home-buying'd be like that; some decent family who outgrew their current home might want to sell at just the right moment, them moving on just when you want to buy; a perfectly-timed rehousing venture with very few troubles.
It's not like that at all. I'm starting to think that even the video footage of hermit-crab cooperation was staged. I feel as though they may've intentionally omitted the unfortunates;
The ones who panicked when they realized that all the abandoned shells of proper size are moldy on the inside or have holes in 'em or are otherwise unsuitable or already occupied, so they scramble to return to their previous shell, squishing themselves back in place, barely enough room to breathe. Wishing crabbily that all the other crabs would quit being so darn grabby.
Home-buying's like that. When the sand clears and you've managed to nab a half-way less-inadequate dwelling, you sure as hell don't want to go through all that shell-swapping bull-crap again. Might as well just stay in your "perfect" new home forever.
....Dash it all; is that a crack in the ceiling??
I've had 6 forever homes
when forever meant
as far as my limited vision could see ahead.
when my dreams
were limited to having what I saw others had
I outgrew each home
as age always supplies the means
to have too much.
My present home
downsized never meant to be forever
as I've found the place in life dreams end.
the thought of a home terrifies me.
I never thought I would deserve such a thing
called home, and I would never think
of myself as a person who could even
define it for myself.
permanence. a fear to me
much too similar to unknowingness.
what will I want? will a home
be an ever changing concept to me?
how will I ever be satisfied…
so for now, I fail to commit. I fail
to define. and I fail to keep fear
out of my mind.
perhaps I find home in that.
Is alchemy but an intrinsic craft?
For the molecules of oxygen
Floating in my room
Turn to sugary toothaches
A sugary toothache
Is all it takes
And I am yours
That's not right. Something is missing. I lick my crusty lips once, squeezing my eyes to stare into nothing and finally feel something. I grope the soft bed sheets that cry softly as my nails drag against the woven thread. I take a sharp breath in, forcing my rib cage to expand completely so that I might consume as much stimulus as possible.
A vanilla scent swathes my nose, rising most prominently from the bed. I bunch the sheets in my palms and then my clothes. A wide smile spreads across my face. That vanilla scent lingers like a stain.
In all the places I've stayed, and the homes I've hopped, the rooms are same if not arranged differently. A small, cramped corner of the house the size of a walk in closet was my most adoring lover. There, I hung like a hooked fish in my twin sized beds, flailing my willowy limbs for a comfortable sleep. Always, my lover smelled of petrichor mingled with mold, dry and stale. The room would have gray accents even if the lightbulb glowed orange. My lover was not a knowable woman. She was distant and cold.
The room where I slumber and record my thoughts is no different from that, and yet...I wonder if I might be standing in the garden of eden.
Asu's voice cracks as she moans out her morning song. She pries an eyes open, a smile playing on her lips, "Sorry, if I troubled you."
"No," I lean down to kiss her. "Now you're everywhere."
And I want it that way forever.
You are my forever home; your arms are where I lay
I thank the Universe for you, each and every day
A home is not a tangible place, it doesn’t need a view
It exists wherever I happen to be, as long as I'm with you
When you realized that all the fresh coats of paint,
fine fabrics, and antique furniture in the world
couldn't provide you the comfort you sought,
you began to put more stake in the foundation.
You learned to tolerate those little things
you once spent so much time worrying over--
the peeling wallpaper and the frayed edges of the carpet,
the spider web cracks in the plaster.
Perhaps one day, soon,
you'll even come to love them.
Home to Me
The love’s still here
Just cause you’re no longer mine
I don’t flaunt it
but I’m haunted
by the ghost you left behind
I kind of like it
Just feels right
A piece of you that’s always mine
I’ll always have it
You’re a habit
I just can’t pass with time
You can call me anytime
I’ll still pick up the phone
Friends tell me to quit trying
Can’t leave well enough alone
Cause I remember cold December
When all I had to hold
Was your hand in mine
Our legs entwined
You’ll always feel like home to me
They say that exes can’t be friends
But those other exes aren’t us
We didn’t break—we only bend
Amend until we learn to trust
The pressure’s off
No longer lost
In the oceans of your love
No longer yours
But it’s nice on shore
Better than it ever was
You still call me all the time
I still pick up the phone
Friends just don’t get
How I could miss
A love that left me so alone
But I recall that early fall
When all I had to hold
Was his hand in mine
Our legs entwined
He’ll always feel like home to me
Life’s not a movie
Some romantic comedy
Love’s not all or nothing
If it doesn’t have to be
From one love to another
Once we used to be lovers
Now you feel more like a brother
A brother to me
So you can call me anytime
I'll always take your calls
Friends tell me
To quit trying
But they just can't recall
That frozen winter
Before we splintered
When the only thing at all
That was mine was you
That was always true
You'll always feel like home