I: I won’t Leave Home

I continue day dreaming

seeing

feeling

myself in darkness

walking down the hall alone at night

to the bathroom, to the kitchen, to the turret

glass door open, glass door closed, sounds resound

without aid from sight

a daredevil sense around the narrows, curves and turns

a late night conversation with a brother, sister, mother, friend

or a visit with father watching television on the couch

I walked around in darkness

and felt out every one of you

made sure I was the last asleep

the watch dog on watch

but who will watch the watch dog?

Who will watch him sleep at night?

Who will put to rest his weariness?

Who can know, and who can do it right?

Little noises on the steps

back corners

step on the ends of boards

and where walls meet

not a sound

not a peep

but the lonesome watch finder

keeping time, keeping time

has no rhythm

no method to his madness

no measure to his rhyme

No routine of the routineless ones

bereft of time

and place

brush my teeth

brush my teeth

take your mourning shower

and put on your day-o clothes

toil away the cracking heat

the char black bellied homes

Walking down my corridor

listen for every sound

mother reading

brother breathing

hum of father’s television

sister moves around

crickets chirping

cats meowing

a car passes down town

I lived in that home at night

when everything came to life

keep aglow the candle flame

here to light a stranger familial friendly way

I loved the darkest places of my home

where one could hide

where one could remain unseen

safe from all onlookers

only those that lead with scent will find me

and scented ones have I all but lost these days

my wombic home, tight and small within the grandeur and great

hiding in a shell of a victorian queen

find out the places

where none can find at all

and hide and seek me all the days

I hid in corners left by shadows

in closets far too small

I lived my days under beds and under chairs

tables and desks

I crawled between parents

and slept in sibling arms

I shared beds with Ben

Cats, snakes, women

I shared chairs like dancing

cheek to cheek

I sat in them in my own sandwich of blankets

I survived Avalanches down stairs

pouring out into the vastness of the second floor hallway

just below the sock drawer

I cried

I begged

I taught

I screamed

I learned

I laughed

I lied

I hollered

I danced

I yelled

I played

I giggled

I fought

I chortled

I ate

I slept

I drank

I smoked

I failed

I hated

I forgot

I triumphed

I loved

I remembered

I lived

I died

I was

I am

I will be again

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