Here.
I am, again.
Happy as can be.
Lost, seems to be within my nature,
and people?
People are faces of meat that have died beneath the collar,
strangled by life,
and asphyxiated by the torment of being right, or wrong.
Walls are seeping around me,
there seems to be a change in the wind,
so i set my sails, again.
There is an essence of poison in the air,
though i know not of what it smells,
just how it looks,
and the it looks dark and heavy,
there is a storm coming, and i batten down the rigging.
Over and over again,
tossing and turning,
standing at the deck, overthrown by salty waves of disposition.
At last i arrive on a new shore,
my fingers are numb, my legs are weak,
all my possessions are lost,
and i become lost once again.
A vulture is circling the skies, and i run between the trees,
camouflage is not so good in this new world,
there are many of them, so many.
I have lost my footprints, there are no breadcrumbs here,
to lead me back home.
Home, so far from home,
there is no candle in the window for me,
there is no motif of my pictures on a wall,
so whilst i am hiding under fern leaves,
and there are many vultures, and poisonous insects are abundant,
i know there is no going back.
So here i am, left and abandoned, by my own doing,
vultures encircling the sky, after the skin that is hanging from my bones.
And i finally find the desert,
too dry to find the water,
too wet to find the salt,
to raw to feel the wind,
and too blind to see the sun.
Surrounded by coarse grit, it becomes my food,
my bitters, my daily bread, my toothpaste.
And here i am,
on a road to nowhere,
in the middle of nowhere,
in the middle of nowhere,
with the people with skin hanging from their faces,
with their bones seen through their fingertips,
to the walls they have built,
to the ships they have sailed,
to the new land they have *****,
to the deserts they have drowned,
and here, i am.
Where is this place?