My Home

To be in and to be out I brace myself for the impact. The struggle. The tiresome absolution is real.

 To be in and to be out
I brace myself for the impact.
The struggle.
The tiresome
absolution
is real.
 
I live somewhere in the middle
In between this world and the next.
Hoping.
Praying.
My lungs will stop taking in air.
My heart murmur will finally stop
my heart’s beating.
 
The drum beats.
Loud and thick.
Like too much iron in the blood.
My tongue clicks
with the melody
of always being open
but always remaining shut.
I’m shut in and not.
I’m without
cause or reason
I simply take it all in
and simply
keep living.
Existing.
Breathing.
In a world without a home
without a sense of belonging.
With and without nothing.
I am home.
Here.
In the middle of nowhere.
Somewhere
in-between.