I sit here on this messed up balcony that has all essence of home
Yet,
All i think about is the view right before me
The size of the mountains repel me
But that makes me more drawn to its diabolic beauty
Flashes of every story and legend I've read takes place in those mountains
And my eyes betray me by refusing to look away from this dream catcher
In the distance the rain collapses and it reminds me why i live in this town
Of my love towards the smell of the rain provides
Nothing is more hypnotizing
It gives me a chillingly warm feeling as the chains hold me in this messed up hell of a balcony

I want to go home
but I am home.
I'm homesick
for a home I don't have
and it's the scariest and
saddest feeling yet.

My soul longs for all the lives I've lived
Lifetimes ago I was someone different

Maybe once long ago, riches draped from the curves of my being
Maybe whiskey graced my lips far to often
Maybe smoke stained my lungs
Maybe my feet touched mountains
Maybe in a life long ago, my figure was shrouded in darkness
Maybe it was helpless
            or not, maybe it was a warrior, hard and sharp and deadly
Maybe my back was once adorned with wings
Maybe satin dripped from my lips
Maybe symbols littered by skin
Maybe my name was death,
                                       chaos,
                                       mercy,
                                       life
Maybe I died for love
                        for war
                        for a cause

I have lived many lives
                      and I long for them all
My soul longs for its place, its home
            a home that I have no memory of

I am filled with an unyielding ache for things I know nothing of

My ears long for words from worlds long ago
My skin craves the ink that once ran from my fingers so freely
My hands ache to dig into the earth to which they have been a stranger to for so long
My skin aches for the long forgotten bite of steel that was once so familiar  

I am homesick for places that have never been my home,
My soul is cursed to spend its eternity searching for its place.

I feel homesick for a place that doesn't exist.
I am homesick but I am at home.
Why am I homesick in my own home?
Where will I stop feeling homesick?
Everyone else feels safe at home.
When will I stop feeling homesick?
Do I even need a home?

Wherever you are
That is where I belong.

That's why when I miss you
I say I am homesick.

i am surrounded by warm bodies,
but i crave a loving touch.
the world is fast pacing
but i feel like i am stuck.

my stomach isn't doing well, and neither is my brain
                my heart just got up from a  grave, and oh look- it's falling again.

I. '88 dakota

mondays still ****. granted i don't get up at the crack of dawn no more but around noon i always feel the need to leave the rest of the day behind me and take the big red monster out and go to the beach and contemplate my life for hours, so i'll reach into my tattered 35 year old prada bag for a lanyard that says "nirvana" on it (like the band, not the stage of buddhism), but then i remember that gas guzzler and i got 337 miles between us, no more, no less.

II. whidbey

on wednesdays i feel like i've shifted into an alternate universe where there are things other than evergreen trees and dirt roads, where the view when i look out the window is an interstate and dagger-like icicles that are as tall as me. maybe it started when they took down the texaco star in freeland and maybe it started the day i left, but i'm not sure if i can remember what home feels like anymore.

III. you*

i still miss you on thursdays, sometimes saturdays. i know, i thought i woulda found someone better by now too till i realized that i'd been giving myself false hope this entire time. no one will ever be you. no one's teeth will curve the same way. no one will ever love the home teams as much as you. no one will ever smile as hard when i give them my last kit-kat in a strip mall parking lot at sunset. they drink to dak prescott and spit wintergreen griz more than you ever did. i thought i would find someone better until i walked into the coldest part of heaven with some crinkled twenty dollar bills and a carharrt jacket.

*-z. vega