you could find my home somewhere in a tightly bound tether,
constricted to the point that every breath is a roar that could move mountains, only it's too old and frail, it's time long gone, and so it only faintly echoes out, a gasp rather than roar...

you could find my home in a darkened alleyway,
stumbling on an indefinite amount of steps, treading lightly not out of fear, but out of a complete disillusionment of reality, a soft stutter to the equilibrium of livelihood, only growing more weary and lost...

you could find my home anywhere,
but where you'd probably find it most is in a dark room, contemplating the necessity and desire for settling while dreaming still of continuing exploring, planning out all but what comes next in reality...