I have the special ability to spit spliced railroad tracks into all the right places. I Filled my ears with drainage tubes down complicated compliments through subway grates to visit the homeless man that believes in a better tomorrow. Because someone has to. Now I have never been on a subway, but the way your presence flows through my veins like a bullet in a barrel makes me feel that maybe i can be the one to deliver this moment. The moment that I was late for. Two years late. It took me a while to understand that the platform we have eloquently been slapping graffiti across will one day be our home. A home of every moment we have shared. Home has always been a place of here and there. I have never been able to stay in a specific longitude for more than a lifetime of awkward moments shared between a ******* and a clergy man. I choose to live in a mobile home. With wheels built off rotating personality disorders that refuse to believe in teamwork. We traveled through state borders leaving the past inside us for all to confide in. In my home, I have a room. I keep in there everything you don't know about. It builds comfort through my sternum. Exploding into my ribs that hug my organs with safety. Home is the place I want to be. My veins are electrical cords spitting energy though plywood walls charged with dreams about a remodel. A 4x2 for a spine stiff enough to support this bobble head of mine. My knee caps still need to be replaced at some point. They don't know how to walk in a straight line yet. Finding curves in my consciousness. Although  Constructing this safe haven has been a Wreckless abandonment of everything I have learned from informercials at 4am. It started with a foundation of this will never go anywhere, transitioned into a tumbling saw blade crashing through dandelions for being so **** confusing. I still can't tell the difference between those and flowers. We ended here. In the dumpsters Bags I hide under my eyes. Full of memories from every time I said "I can sleep when I'm dead". Its all stuck in my head like a diamond plated dorito that was prized in a box for those who want more than good enough. So as I cough up my confidence I will sit next to you, on this subway, the one I have never been on. I will muster up some courage to honor all the good in you, and ask you simple questions like how was your day? What's your middle name? And where do you paint your home? Spray me across the definite realization that home is where you are.