I remain lost as
a bird circling the horizons
nowhere to land on
not knowing where to next
I am the one who has
strayed too far
confounded as a bad rhetoric
like any fool I was misguided
by questions with answers
I refused to believe
fancy struck
by bright city lights
false hopes
the blindness of ambition.

Packed bags, long, lonely halls
at fifth street
new faces, new foot fall traces
I am among those
who scatter everywhere
as wildly as fallen
leaves in autumn
only to die in one place
unheeded in the earth
as a burned picture.

The word home
has eluded my lips
I do not know
what it is anymore.

It had been everywhere
in damp, double bunk beds,
in summer evenings,
greasy diner food,
communal bathrooms,
loud rooftop parties—
that end not how they started
the recklessness of youth
to the slow waste of age.

Home is everywhere,
I am everywhere.

It had been nowhere
crowded streets
with rushed faces,
nights of killing
spades and aces,
solitary reveries of
drunken strangers,
and in the streets,
the starved, ****** painters.

Home is nowhere,
I am nowhere.

I thought to myself
how home felt like many places
within all sorts of different faces
but it was never with me.