safe at last

it's easier, being at home
not so hard, hanging onto myself
to be myself
less work reminding me what i'm supposed to be like.
when i've got the people who made me what i am here in front of me

thoughts about death and glory
the easy way out, to glorify pain
to seek it out
to chase it like fools chase rainbows
hug it close to my chest and nurse it's venomous bite
it's easier

but harder, much harder, to be well and truly happy
to look at the world with open eyes and feel hopeful
like something good can come from this mess
like i'm not throwing my life away on something i hate
(which i don't hate, but maybe do not love quite as much as i ought)

it's a bit tricky
everything, really

the question of goodness and honesty and being better
of trusting others versus protecting self
of letting go
knowing which way to go

i want music for blood
and music for food
and music to breathe
music in my ears and in my hair
music on my lips and in my eyes
live and breathe and eat the pulse of drums and the whine of guitars.

keep it close and make it closer
live for what you love
and for nothing else
striving and wishing and jumping hoping to land

when i'm at home, it all looks less impossible from here.