Monday, March 19, 2012

Day 972: Homeward bound

Ive become acoustomed to this hustle
this shifting and transfering
to fit into awkward segments of time
learned to find a part of home in every street
every set of eyes
every smile
a part of place to make me belong

but what is there to be said of this pretending game
how all my genius
returns in my own medeocrity
what of this silence
in waiting
in transit
what of this travel
that has taken me to every edge of the world
every part of me hasnt grown in movement
how i seem to have nothing unique and new to say

how solidified regression takes shape inside of my veins
what about this privilage
has turned me so scared of change
so comfortable
in achievement that iʻve stopped to move

it is nights like these that i found myself willing home into every image i see
tuirning the next terminal into nothing
more than a turnstyle
that will eventually take me home

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