I find myself of late,
Without the words or will to write.

But it's not a quiet state,
It's clogged with bad unspoken rhyme.

I am not the brightest star,
But quite surely I'll still shine.

Whether anybody sees it,
It's all here and it's all mine.

Compressed in bed, feeling rigid,
Dreaming about animals dying.
The mornings kick so much harder-
Kick me right back into bed.

We just let the sun rise and set.
And let it be known-
I'm no more awake come noon,
No more awake at work,

No more awake in dreams:
Wading through syrupy water,
I feel that way come day.
I keep trying to speak up

But no one even sees the bubbles rise

Each day I sit: numb hands, numb feet
Waiting for the autopilot to take my space
So I can fall asleep in the passenger seat
And wake up in a different place

Or even drift right past tomorrow
If I'm his hostage, he's my plague
Because the bumpy road he tolerates
Always rocks away my aches

My body is held by strings
And my eyes no longer blink
So I stay in the passenger seat
And keep choosing not to think

I thought it was homesickness
So I came home

And nothing changed.

If home is where the heart is,
I'm sick for you.

In the constant motion of calamity,
you are my tranquility.
My peace, my rest,
my heaven.

In the burning heat of the desert,
you are my oasis.
My lifesource, my rarity,
my hope.

In the unseen darkness of night,
you are my torch.
My guidance, my honesty,
my light.

In the meantime,
you are mine.