The night sky is blue.
Amaranthine - endless
The mosaic trail left upon my satin skin.
The tinge caressing my eyes,
Which have seen
The devil himself
And yet dare not expose the azure brutality
Enveloped in your venomous cradle.

The waves are blue.
An exhausting struggle I brave
Cyclically
Desperate to subsist
As you seek to drag me
Cascading
To the ocean floor -
Where I embrace my demise at your hands.

Blood flows blue
Yet pours red.
The colour you see each time I dare to pursue escape.
The colour you see
If I am to take too long in the bathroom.
If I am to have a quiet word with my friends
Without your contiguity
Looming like a cloud
Blue
Threatening a downpour congruent with my tears
As I beg them to liberate me
Yet say no such thing.

The lights projected from the ambulance
Pleading with traffic to manufacture a path
As I lay
Helpless.
Blue.
Broken ribs and a broken heart.
Not the first assault and victim to more than yourself
But my forgiving nature
Assures that this is not the final beating.
As my skull is glued and the morphine streams through my veins
And the boys in
Blue
Delicately ask
“Did he do this, again?”
I nod,
Though the officer shakes his head,
His pen moving freely of his hand,
He acknowledges that tonight he will return to his wife,
He will have his meal and pray that his daughter is spared.
And I will return,
To the lair of the beast.

My eyes swollen.
My body imitating scaffolding; bones and skin housing the weary soul.
My hands shake as they struggle to grasp reality.
My cheeks stained by the violent, sempiternal flow of tears.
My ribs, forbidden from healing prior to the next wave of brutality,
Stood at an angle god himself could not manufacture.
My voice weak, desperate, pleading;
Determined.
I beg no one to liberate me.
I, myself, choose to betray your corruption.
I tell my story, though it is not a tragedy.
I showcase, unforgiving - as you were,
The ‘love’ you enforced upon me.
The bloodthirsty way your soul adored mine.
The months of seemingly incalculable assault
Starvation
Emotional torture
****
The autonomy you stole from me.
I want it back.
Instead it lies, at the bottom of your cobalt ocean.
Wrecked and never to be recovered.
Even in exposing you, and hand-delivering my message to you,
That you lost.
I do not regain the life you mercilessly devoured.

Instead,
I must rebuild my own life.
Despite and in spite of you.
Though the blue I once knew was bruised and afraid.
The Sapphire I learn is of unwavering strength, kindness
And peace.
I forgive you,
Though I hope to God that you rot in a place where blue
Seems inviting.

You may believe home to be an address,
You are wrong.
The co-ordinates I list as my place of residence,
Are subject to change.
As do the seasons,
As my health waxes and wanes,
As my job becomes a harrowing echo,

My home will remain,
Incorrupt,
Unblemished.

As the night-sky,
Glistens and reminisces.
Its nostalgic ribbon intertwines with my soul -
My heart,
Recognises its home.

The waves,
That serenely lap against the shore,
Leaving, once elapsed,
A maze of its belongings,
Like a Nomad on his journey.
Demonstrative tides of exposure,
Against our profane human culture,
To jumble together
In definition,
Our home and our belongings.

Does this translate,
That home is sovereign
Of worldly corruption,
And is therefore
Safe from life’s unpredictability?

Home,
It is a state of mind.

Home is the essence which coats your soul.
Home is the promise of peace.
Home could never be my place of residence,
For between hospitals and the couches I have surfed,
Void of worldly possessions,
I have never once been homeless.
I possess more than the man who cannot see
That a fixed abode in this world is not the true interpretation,
Of a phrase so bespoke.

As I look into the night-sky,
And reminisce;
As the waves serenely lap
Against the borders of land and sea,
I accept that no matter where in the world I may find myself,
The moon will still shine,

The waves will still sing soft melodies to the sand,
And my home,
I forever hold in my hand.