Home.It is where my heart is.
But home.
Is not where I can ever be.
Ever.
There is no settling down.
There is no wife and three kids.
There is no hope that I will ever feel the way that I felt, right then, right there. When you leaned in at the same time as me and our lips me. I'm walking away from home.
Across a parking lot into the dark, I'm walking away from home.
I have to.
And beyond these walls is an open field. Marked with thorns and gullies that search to ensnare me. And beyond that. Desert.
Open. Hell.
This is my damnation. This is the punishment for my sins.
I am in the closet with the whip.
Go home. Run home. Flee to home.
And I will walk into the wilderness again. I will seek, and I will find, I will knock, and someone will open.
But I will walk into the wilderness again.
There is no place like home.
There is no place like home.
There is no place like home.
Not to be filed.
4 comments:
virtue or vice?
I don't think either. Just blank and raw emotion in that moment. It is literally the wilderness. I couldn't think past that instant...and that makes it so much more that either side of the swing. "Not to be filed."
Those lines..."but home, that is where I will never be." Makes Blue Oyster Cult spin in my brain. I'll play it for you; you'll hear what I hear.
Don't venture too far into The Territories; you'll end up with the joshua trees.
Be well. It'll all pan out. Promise.
I have a long ways to go before the Joshua trees.
Post a Comment