I once lived in a town with a bar on one end and a church opposite

The days were filled with haze and the nights lingered as the hands on the clock kept ticking

As I’d lay in bed, gazing out one of the many windows into my oversized world

One, two, three – I counted the stars

Three, four, five – I counted the cars

It was on these everlasting nights

That I counted roaring trucks and balls of gas,

that I’d spent nights by a dancing fire, erupting with laughter alongside the only pieces of my heart I hadn’t torn off myself,

that I’d spent dancing around smoke-filled rooms with one too many swigs of too-strong liquor,

that I’d that I found a home


Severed by a knife layered with accused betrayal

Planes began to carry me to places I’d never heard of

Loneliness took over and consumed my being

Madness took residence in my mind and dug a hole six-feet-deep laced with sinews and tendons, almost provoking a hole six-feet-deep to rest in a fragile black gown

“Don’t become a ghost again.” I begged my weeping wrists with many more tormented months to ensue


Somewhere between tip-toeing in at sunrise and collapsing into an exhausted coma,

among drunken words and sloppy intimacy shared with people who wouldn’t wait for the moon to fall to abandon you,

through mountains and mole-hills alongside taken-for-granted angels,

beyond bottles of easy ways out and beautiful, miracles that begged you to please stay,

I lost home.

I lost my home.


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