I don’t know what it looks like, but I know its feel. I feel it in images of people with their souls glowing in their eyes. I feel it in words written that should be mine in their descriptions. I feel it inside of me, and I see it. I see home. It can only be seen with a heart. It can only be felt in a smile so true that there is absolutely no question of how pure it is. The face doesn’t matter. There is nothing that can be physically described. A blind person would probably have a much easier time, but they would already have to be there. It is felt. It is magick. It is creativity. Freedom. Love, pain, release. Creation, Destruction, and everything in between. That is my need. I know where it is.

It is not here. Not for me. I feel that I must be weak – but don’t we all need someone? Someone. Who? How many?
Aren’t I enough for me?
I do anything I wish, I make it happen. I knew magick before I knew the word. I was never suprised, I knew and I smiled. I was always different in ways that most different people weren’t but I never gave a fuck. It was death that I yearned for.
And something strikes me. I’m still alive. Still incredibly alive and I know why and I need to know why and it changes every day. I struggle. I fight. I keep smiling hoping that it will bleed into me and stay.

Aren’t I enough for me?
Why do I need you? Why should I care? Are all of you worth the price I will need to pay? I would give ten times that not to need to to laugh with all of my heart because of you. I would give everything I have and more to be able to live with loneliness and not even realize that I might be. But – I do need you. Perhaps there is a strength in admitting that. I pretend not to be weak and you are worth everything and I need you.
Aren’t I enough for me?
Perhaps I am. I have lived a full life and continue to do so. I am me, and really, that’s all – but I have something to give, somewhere, and I have something that – now, at 38 years old, is telling me that I just might love to share this chaotic life, the lust to create, the insatiable desire to make this world we all live in a better place, person by person…
There is something inside of me that tells me that it might be nice
to turn and share a satisfied and triumphant smile
knowing we changed something
with someone and so many people
who smile back.
Aren’t I enough for me?
Mirrors can’t dance down the street, can’t skip, can’t sing harmony in a silly song, can’t inspire.
I am, I am not. I need a smile reflected without glass. A heart that is more than the solitude echo of everyday these days, a pulse that I can feel as I lay my head on your body, and listen, and smile.

Home has no walls, no windows. It is not a place, not a city, nothing that has a name. It only has doors. They are always open.

I want to come home.


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