Spider Silk Home

My mum tells me old habits die hard
I laugh because sometimes the only thing my old habits have their hands around is my throat
see, I’ve got a habit of running
Away
From books, from feelings,
would-be-lovers, new sunsets
from myself, and new sunrises sometimes,
places,
people,
things.
Nouns and adjectives.
Speaking of nouns, he asks me to run away with him sometimes
Let’s run away from home he says.
home is a noun
An abstract noun
And I tell him
I left home back ages ago
wherever it is, home has skid-marks of my feet gracing its welcome mat.
Home has boarded up windows, and jammed doors,
in fact the only thing alive in home anymore is probably spiders who’ve made their own homes there,
little spider webs, fragile threads stronger than anything else.
He says let’s just run away then, love
we’ll be spiders too,
make our own home
wrap it up in bolts of spider silk
So no one can ever get through.
He makes me smile, (a lot)
and so I say I’ll think about it.
See, I’ve been running away for so long, I’ve been around the universe twice and one half times,
but maybe, it would be nice to come home
to a spider web home
of our own
at the end of the third lap.


Image credits: Mike Depetris

On The Outskirts of Heaven

Listen, listen, listen, please, you hear but I need you to listen to everything I’m screaming without opening my mouth, I need you to put aside these games and just listen to me.
Please. Listen before it’s too late.
Beneath these webs we want the same thing. You want me to want you, and I already do.
I swear, just open your eyes and listen. You’ll find me behind the whirlwind haze of glitter that surrounds you.
Here I am, on the outskirts of heaven trying to look straight at you.
Between my rose glasses and your glittering halo there’s not much I can see.
Between my rose glasses and your glittering halo there’s not much to see.
(If only you’d feel.)
If only all these people could get out of our way, then we could be our curtains-down, kitchen-sink selves. I could breathe and you could smile like the world was ours.
Like the world wasn’t ending.
Like we didn’t make so many mistakes that slept on our shoulders while we stayed up at night.
Like we weren’t making new ones every time we looked away.
The ghosts in my city like to count my mistakes out loud, I wonder if you hear their echo all the way to where you are.
Wherever you are.
I wonder if you hear me calling you home.

Come Home.

Forget love,
I will die
If you don’t come home.
You left so long ago,
I have forgotten your face
And your eyes are blurred in my mind now,
But my soul remembers, I swear it does
And it calls for you-
Sings you lullabies to pull you home,
Strews cherry blossoms in the spring
And dead leaves in the winters
To guide you back
To me.
Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten
My voice across the winds,
Don’t tell me you don’t know
Where the golden light leads to
Anymore.
What is it you’ve found
That holds your heart so strong,
You will not leave it to come back home,
What holds you so tight,
The waves cannot bring you back to my shore?
My city is in ruins,
It was only ever made for two,
But I cannot own it alone
And the winds have blown so hard to bring you back to me,
The other half of my city has flown to you too.
What is left of a city when nothing remains?
It only ever belonged to you.
So forget, love,
This city is gone,
These ruins remember nothing;
I would not blame you
If you have forgotten me too
Because I’m in a city that was made for two,
But both halves of it have blown away to you
And I’m left in a desert
Where the earth has never known rain
But it longs for water from what it remembers
Of the ocean that once covered it.
Maybe this is the curse
That comes with my desert city,
That both land and keeper long
For that which has abandoned us.


Image credits: Matt Lief Anderson

Home.

Oh, we were such a paradox, darling,

No wonder everything turned out as it did;

We were never made to last,

Not even for long,

And my life is a never ending summer now,

But summer was never our season anyways,

Our times of the day were always

The brightest and the darkest,

The noon and the night,

But I like dawns,

And late afternoons now

Because the sky has never turned

Golden to purple, with all the colors in between

As I looked at you,

The sun has never been on the verge of disappearing,

It’s eternal road run for the day,

As I’ve dreamt about you.

It has never heard me describe to it out loud,

How your eyes crinkled when you smiled,

No,

That was always the moon,

Burdened with my quiet tears

Of bittersweet agony

In the screaming dark;

Oh darling,

You were poison to the fragments of rotten soul

Residing in my gut,

But let’s not forget it was I,

Who decided to drink up

Every

Last

Drop

In my search

For ecstasy and a ribcage

I could burrow into and call

“Home”.


Image credits: Shafaq Mujtaba

Also, guys, I’ve just posted a poem on The Artistics as well! Check it out now!