It's the blaze across my night gown It's the phone's ring I think last night (you were in my dreams) You were driving circles around me
So what I do is, turn off the light. Turn the table lamp on, put my headphones on and blast melancholy music, close my eyes and weep; pretend I am on a sea beach, alone in the middle of the night. feeling sand beneath my feet, smelling the misty-salty winds, feeling my misty salty cheeks. I dance a little-like in a trance, realize what i am doing, laugh at my silliness and lay down.
You have changed houses , schools , cities towns villages and in time lost 'friends ' , 'almost friends ' (?) All of this done so many times so that the entire cycle of making friends and holding onto them tires you out.
So you stop trying at all . Nothing feels permanent as nothing is permanent.
The cities you once called 'your own ' have now changed beyond recognition . What is home after all ?
An amalgamation of all the small towns you grew up in? Your subconscious mind combines them all together to form one giant mega-city which is an ever growing weed ridden farmland because you haven't settled any where yet; you haven't put in roots.
What is a home city ?
A place where you have worked/are working in . A place where you may stay in as long as works keeps you and then you cut ties and are kicked out.
Which is your home city ? A place where your parents live ? The place you called home once and you spent the better part of your student life in…