What came about in a time of wandering.
The consolation getting me by was
knowing it would end,
I could go back
I could go back to how it was
I could go back to how it was when I remember happiness
I could go back to how it was when I remember happiness
although the time,
then,
was not.
Coming home to where I am safe
and where I can be anywhere but here.
I got by in dreaming of stories to tell
that reflect where I have been,
where a path of solitude crossed theirs
and voice where I fear most in going.
I busied my mind in the folds of the concepts,
and I was not afraid.
I came to where I knew I would
but still I can't stop wandering.
The house is here, and I am inside
but both of us are empty.
I know the stories that haunt these halls
even though I could lose my mind entirely
wondering what they mean.
Is it common
Am I lazy
Am I standing in a place that never existed
and if I exist
why.
I am losing the grip of
whatever it is that actually cares to know,
if even anything is worth knowing.
Insight recognizes a pattern
I never will find where it is I am going.
I ought to just stay here, soon it will be snowing.
I'll wait here.
Closed off, abandoned, derelict, haunted
DANGER: DO NOT ENTER
you are unwanted.
I guess let it collapse
on its own; we can't pay
for demolition faster
than natural decay.
If you visit
it is to test the
structural integrity,
else to marvel at what could have been,
pontificate
upon why she
is what is left.
Or theft.
I wish I could collapse into myself
to be consumed within
the black hole in my chest,
so that my lifelong companion,
loneliness, cannot follow.
It is where
it is nothing
and where nothing may follow as a guest.
Written 9.15.15
Rediscovered while trapped away from home overnight, by the wrath of merciless El Nino