TO FIND OUR HOMES—
in a place, we died once long ago.

broken showers,    splitting   suns,
bursting stars, and flooded floors—
a home thats lost her soul, a place
the orphans   go for   warmth, little
wounds     on carpets    with  velvet
scars,    angry    noises   &   burning
coals,    winds that   shatters    the
windows      and    breaks      doors,
vocal     chords   that    split into
halves, bleeding       onto the snow
as strong hands pulls by the  hair
into an otherworldly  storm we call
home.

i want  to go to   the place    where i
can    hear my   mother's      prayers,
where  the sun   bleeds ichor   from
gods,    and the     moon raises   her
head— i can see the slight   ounces
of honey   dripping off her   head as
the sea roars in   accordance to her
movements.

my home in   the skies,   lost in   the
cosmos   of   our dreary   minds. its
depressing,   but  atleast i felt home
for a little while.    washed down the
shore like a sea shell of no real use.
i can hear my father's cries— 
water bleeding from his throat,
mumbling hymns, waiting for angels,
and omens,         the    old songs of
vintage        run    through my brain—
and i still can't find it beneath
these flooded floors

— my home.