thank god you see me the way you do, strange as you are to me

the act of touching that place from whence you came is close to nothing else

i keep finding that i'm terrible at keeping my center
i keep needing someone else to find it for me
no good can come of this

touchstone, center, origin, home

how do i keep a hold on it?
to know what is important and not
to know what is valuable and not
to know what is worth my heart and what should be left at the kerb.


for now, i am refreshed
but what will happen when i go into the world again
alone and lost, a terrible thing to be
with all the things that bring me back to where i ought to be scattered across the surface of the earth in such a way as to be beyond my reach for the foreseeable future, which might as well be forever



and that, frankly will not fly, you will hear the shrillest highs and lowest lows with the windows down when this is guiding you home



best at borrowing trouble and not giving it back
but burning bridges is too much fun
(do you know what that means 'cause i don't, but it sure sounds good, alliteration tastes good on the tip of my tongue)



love is a fragile word
(this is my bright idea)