Home

Do you ever get this feeling,

At the bridges of those huge train stations?

Where there are intersections?


No,  not that of leaving permanently

for an out-bound train


Even if you're going with people

Who you've called home all your life

There's  a queasy feeling

Like you've left home behind.


Does it hit you?

Do the people on the huge platform crossing by

give you the impression that they are

bodiless souls or soulless bodies

Flitting away into nothingness

And exchanging voids?


Maybe only I get this feeling

Maybe it is because people who I've called home

Left me

I know I shouldn't have.


Because homes are something

you're comfortable in.

You don't go house hunting.

Home beckons you.


You can't go to a house, find potential

and then wait for it to be your home, or wait,

do you?


I called this someone home,

Too soon I guess.

Something like a week and a half into knowing him. Or

A month and half, I dont know.

Was it actually a year and half?

Anyway, what's important is that it remained just that half.


But what we should learn,

Is to live, nevertheless.


You know the funny thing?

I'd once read this quote that went something like:

It's okay to make homes out of people if.

And I lost the quote.

Now, tell me, how am I supposed to make a

home if I can't remember a quote?


I've tried, you know

I think I've tried it all.

Finding the quote,

Leaving the home be.


But it hasn't worked so far for me.

All that poetic bullshit they say?


"My darkness and his darkness are friends."

I'm going to wait it out and see if it's true.


I'm going to wait for home to come to me.

Homes, old and new.