Weeee OHHHHHH

I don't feel like I'm at home anywhere. A lack of closeness. A lack of solidity in my surroundings. Everything feels its in passing. A lack of permanence. One foot out the door. Clothes in plastic bags. Trunk is full. A sense of detachment is present in all things. I want to find home. I want to find the bed to lie in. I want the warm breath on my neck. The hot meals. Less feeling of replacement. Less feeling of nothing.

An ocean of towns and cityscapes. I am set adrift on rivers of black. Places and people on their islands. I float by and we wave. A welcoming smile and a beckoning call for fleeting moments on my pontoon. I know the asphalt calls me. I know the lights guide me through the fog. I want the land. I want to stake my claim and burn my raft for firewood. Root myself next to the parking garages, streetlamps, and skyscrapers.

?

Forgettable.
Simply forgettable.
Remember to forget.
Burn.
Roaring Blaze.
Set fire to it all.
Fall.
Loose footing.
Scraped knees,broken ankles.

I'm Sleeping 3 hours a night Screaming

The bellow of the giant next door to me keeps me tossing.
My mind is a landscape of anxiety and serenity.
The cool calm breeze in the fields.
Tall trees and stoic mountains.
Interrupted with the effigy. The burning man, The sacrificial Lamb
The mountains ooze molten earth.
The breeze brings the smell of ash and the soot stains my face.
My bed, was once a welcoming friend.
I now see that there is no salvation there. No hope for rest or solitude.
I can see the dull glow in the seams of the mattress and box springs
This is not my home.

Why don't you get another job?

My mind falls flat on the pavement when I stare at the screen. Thoughts of others and lives and losses flood my mind. A suggestion, a call for help. A weight on my chest for months now. I keep wondering what I did wrong or what it was I could have did right or different. Stand straight, eyes forward, nails are clean. Falling in line. More like falling. I lost sleep some years ago and I wish I could find it. Sometimes I hope it will come back to the stoop looking for food. Then we could rekindle our lost friendship. Its hard to let go. Its hard to give up. Its hard to be someone you are not. Its hard to take a loss. I'm not dead yet. My heart still beats. I have work, I have my books. I have my hands. My hands have never let me down. They are strong. They are happy to hold the hammer, the knife, the gun. They are happy with these tools. We become proficient in our 40 hour a week life. We become needed, we become loved. That was my flaw, I forgot I was at work, its all a job.