I bear witness to people searching for homes at the end of whiskey bottles and in the beds of someone unknown. Which causes me to wonder:

Where is home?

I will call to you in the thorny wilderness,
If only you would comprehend each syllable of my name.
I will scream out in roses laid before me,
If only I didn’t know of the precision it takes to use a knife,
I will recite all the different train of thoughts that consume my being,
Often leaving me stranded in the abyss,
If only I was not a product of emotional turmoil,
If only you could turn my pages the way I longingly brush through those in my books,
But I’m just a lifelong series of disturbing motives,
So I will not call out to you,
Even in my darkest dreams,
Somehow I will find the strength to forgive you when I lay my entire being down,
But until then,
I pray that God forgives me.

Trembling hands remind me of the wind that blows with flair,
While the moonlight forbodes the coming nights with despair.
Loneliness is a cruel joke,
Lord, has thou forgotten me?
Silence once broken is more often than not- unkindly beautiful,
Some people lack the air that should biologically crush their lungs,
They are not forced to breathe,
While the rest of us,
Require more than just inhalers just to proceed.

All I do is trace the borderlines of what your eyes might look like tonight,
And all I do is kiss the corners of your kerosene smile that might burn my insides, in my dreams.
All I do baby is write a paragraph about the way your sunshine laugh might melt away any guard I have designed. (It's never good enough.)
I think about days and I think about ways to get to you but I guess I'll just meet you in our own time.
But till then, all I will do is memorize and fantasize the ways you might say 'I love you'

You're always green & red when I'm blue.

"Do you love me?" I desperately asked.
But you replied with;

"Who could ever love you?"

Rushing, I'm always rushing.
To find you somewhere in the home that is my body,
In the warmth that is the blood that flows in between my bones,
A tender brush of your fingers briskly touching my skin,
And I am no longer who I used to be,
I am, I was and I will be yours,
Blue, they said, was the colour that described my smile,
But you had to go and wash that away in the wave that was your kiss,
Slowly spinning me into your embrace of bliss,
A slow interlace of your fingers with mine,
And I am no longer who I used to be,
I am one with your smile.