Home.

Home
Everyone who matters to me has lived beyond Utah state lines at one point or another. Yet here I am. Still.
I spent time with my brother today.
I listened attentively to his European adventures;
Listened to his drug-induced journeys and sexual conquests.
I listened to him live the life I have read about.
Last time I saw him, he was jaded and vacant when it came to feelings or emotions. But today, he tells me about patching things up with old friends.
About how life's disappointments have led him to where he is now.
It could've been all the cotton trees, but I swear I saw his eyes swell and spill over like two tiny levies as he described recent conversations with friend.
He's finally comprehended the consequences of all his decisions.
They weren't sad or painful tears. They were grateful. Positive. Overwhelming.
I'm just thankful he still has emotions.
I don't think I excelled as an older brother,
but I'm realizing I didn't fuck him up completely.
Although I'm stuck here a for little bit longer I'm still my family's anchor.
To my wayward loved ones, I am home.
-Tylor Sherman




Home

Home is where the heart is
But my heart is in two places at once
Does this make me homeless?

-Ryan Baker


home.
In the darkest corners of the deepest parts in you,
I built a home.
For me and you and the two breathing beings we have made to live.
A place for our beds.
A resting place for Our heavy hearts and weary heads.
A place to eat and drink and be merry.
Sometimes less of the latter.
But still our home.
A place where our dance parties don't need music.
And our dinners don't need forks and spoons.
A place where the sex has never been better.
A place that I invested my whole self into.
I sewed myself to the walls of your inner rooms.
BUT now I've locked myself out.
And I've lost my extra set of keys.
-shannon masayo