Tag Archives: home

A lust for home

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I’ve always believed that my soul is more chaotic than these feeble bones can hold. My heart has always been in a constant state of motion. “Always”, is a word that I use often but never do I fully surrender to this six letter word.
My footsteps have made way into people as if they were an enchanted forest and I had to find out the secrets. I’ve set fire to many houses once they served the purpose. My actions aren’t justifiable at times and my conscious long gave up. I have wounded my hands in trying to put the broken pieces of a mirror together.
It seems more enjoyable to put together the broken things I find, only to tear them apart once I have fixed them.
I found a new abandonment and made a home out of it. It seems to be burning me with a cold fire. Sometimes, it melts me on the outside but freezes my inside. I know that there is just as much hate in this world as there is love because, I break things here, only to mend them. I’ve been scratching away the old wallpaper for a while, now. I gave it a fresh coat of silver with a tint of red, but whenever I look away the paint peels to reveal her name.

Come back home

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Dear heart,

Remember the time you locked yourself inside the ribcage and hid underneath blankets of self-doubt and sadness? I haven’t forgotten how you shriveled into the corner. I still get glimpses of how we both rocked back and forth to music that would mute out the inner screams and the outside world. My fingers were laced with self-hatred and I am sorry that I clawed into you so deep that it started to resonate in every beat of yours. All that time when I wouldn’t breathe or inhale in hope that maybe, this would take me down, you banged on the walls inside my chest until my lungs had no choice. How I tried breaking you but you pleaded to not give up. There was a time when I wanted to bleed you out through my wrists and my thighs but you never left. I remember that time all too well.

I gave you hell, dear heart.

You eventually gave up. I saw the tiny grenades that I had planted on you go out but this time you didn’t make a sound. I smiled knowing how a war had been won. I took blades and butchered you but there was not even a shriek. Until, one day I sat outside your door hoping to start the pain charade when you did not show up. I kept on knocking but you did not answer.

“I hope you do not hate yourself because your soul was one of the most beautiful ones I ever had”, was the only note you left behind.

Dear heart, come back home. I never realized that there are far worse things in life and not having a heart is one of them.

A bit of it remained

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Like all things sweet that fade away
Or all things bitter that carve a space
She gave power to everything that would not last long
Or something that would take root in her
Watching it slip through her hands like sand
It was her way of feeling alive in the moment
Most of it ended
A bit of it remained
Hoping that someday this hopelessness fades away too
Or maybe it makes a home forever to stay

Home and I.

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I keep walking and along the way meet strangers who speak more of soul than just bodies.
I take one step forward and two back ending up in lone corridors with demons who speak of wisdom never spoken of before.
I dance in the muse of the night under the sky with no moon and only stars while looking up hoping to find God.
I hear lies on the lips of priests who have black hearts preaching to the crowd of goodness in the world.
I stare back into empty eyes and find stories the world never knew before.
I have seen broken wings take charge of the air with a single struggle.
I open up like a book to whoever shows me kindness and a bit of love.
My inside is rubble and my outside is just the same. I carry scars like warrior marks and my heart chained to the walls of my ribcage.
I howl at the moon and see through the mountains the dimly lit city below waving “hello” to me.
I hear sirens when the lights go out and screams when people surround me.
Nothing is audible to the world around me but I hear the thud of a broken heart and screeches of a dying soul.
…Everyone speaks of home as a destination and here I am trying to carve one on spot.

Tonight, I desire you!

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Under the myriad of stars, I stared at the north one.
Tonight, just for tonight I wanted to feel at home.
I needed my north star to guide me home.
A train, a bus, a plane or even a car, God! just take me where I feel like home.
Take me back in time.
Take me to the moment when I realized that I love you.
I want to relive it.
Again and again.
The pavements, the empty streets and our silent glances are untold dreams covered in stardust.
Your hand against mine, the nape of your neck and even the way I hold your face close to mine is a lot like happiness covered as bliss.

I have had it bad. I have imagined it far worse to be honest, being alone in the confinements of my own four walled prison but I have felt more dread surrounded by a hundred people and not being able to pour my soul out to, anyone.
I have a twinkling soul and you’re the constellation it twinkles for. I want to drain myself into you, my north star, you see?
I know you crave something big out of this small world, just like me. I see it in your eyes.
I have mine and you have yours,
ideas, destinations, dreams, hopes, home and endpoints or someplace where we will be at peace.
We both want to belong but not in here.
We both want to belong in world of our own.

Be my north star?
I will be your northern lights.
I know how hard it is to fall in love with people who have created barriers around them. I love taking down each wall as it crumbles to the ground. I love the pain but the pleasure of clawing into their zone and making a home.
You know how hard it is to be enchanted by the music the night plays but still love the silent echoes with two beats resonating in the air.

Do you worry?
Maybe, we will sit in the dark hoping for dawn to embrace us.
Maybe, you won’t be home and I would be a misguided seeker?

Life is not that way, my wicked love.
You might regret your acts in the morning
Or
Decisions made at 4 am
And we have our secrets deeply embedded in our hearts.
You will realize that you have made a big mistake, moments after you’ve committed to it. Forever, maybe? It isn’t erasable like many other you wipe out.
Maybe, it would not be a mistake at all.

So, I’m a traveler with wounded feet and a mind at war. I’m a seeker of truth and a prophet on a mission to separate truth from worldly fiction. I am my best in the moment and this moment, alone, with only a single desire tonight.

Tonight, I desire you!

-For her, who taught me how to love without conditions or intentions except to just be in love with the feeling of love.

A home in despair.

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There is something selfish about people who are broken. They always like to keep their scars to themselves. Sharing is not one of their best traits.

They will smile and nod at the world yet, the sadness always gleams in their eyes. They won’t share it because it is a burden that only belongs to them and gives a feeling of home.

I have seen people carve a home in the depths and realms of despair. They drown in pills and intoxications. They build houses of sand near the shore and smile when the tides break them down.

There is something beautiful about the hollowness in their chest and the way their heart howls in the cold lonely nights.

There is something selfish yet beautiful about a broken soul because in between the cracks, I always see the brightest lights.