a million words wasted,
still no unification of soul.
express, express, lack of satisfaction,
there's no place like a home that doesn't exist.
how many more times do i have to say it,
home is where you are,
home is where you are.

and it's a winding path these days,
one that seeks out vantage points
but offers no view of the future,
one that crawls through dirt and heat
and finds relief in loneliness.
is there even a path here, i feel like
there are no footsteps left to follow.

a million words, i wasted them on you.
let you dictate sentences, entire ideas,
let you consume my blood and feed on my skin.
a million words just to wind up
flicking off another parasite on another forest path.

shouldn't there be a sunrise,
shouldn't there be singing birds?
there should be stars peeking through the foliage,
there should be flowers among the ferns.
i am seeking, i am seeking, i am blind
with fear and frozen
with this terrible sexual longing
for your body.
home is where you are,
home is not at the end of this path.