My home is not a physical place,
My home is a person that I chase.
In you I trust,
With you I feel comfortable,
With you vulnerability doesn’t exist.
If home is where the heart may be,
then in your hands my heart is placed.

A twitch of my head and the dead will crawl.
The dead will crawl with a scratching so intense they will leave marks upon my mind.
With the marks hard to remove, I twitch my head once more and awake the dead’s ancestors.
One by one they eat the flesh of the living within me, every aspect of life and trace of goodwill never evident after their presence.
The eyes of the dead so dark, my own eyes swell with the blackness of every mark they have ever left.
With one final twitch of my head I am consumed; under the power of the dead that are now living within me.
No wrong doings were made on my behalf yet the dead take over and find solace within the living thoughts I once possessed.

Space is peaceful.
In space you can float amongst unknown stars.
But, in space, you stand as the open-minded Mars as I, however, caress the dust that are the no longer shining stars.
As another star bursts, so does a small fragment of me.
Though, little by little I wonder closer to your atmosphere.
Eventually, your atmosphere envelopes me.
An attraction develops and now I stand proudly beside the open-minded Mars.
I stand with a purpose and with every fragment lost, now found.
I now shadow you, as the open-minded Deimos; trapped in the warm embrace of your atmosphere.