They say that “home is wherever you happen to be”, but I don’t believe that. I mean, that can be true or at least possible, but I find that it’s contingent on the people you’re with; Your sense of community whether they are related by blood or law or not. Perfect 2D square child’s drawing, rendering. White, awkward daisies sit smiling at the sun. A picket fence for emotional security and the family stands out front in a fashion I have never seen in real life, unless you count The Sims; You know, when you first move in? I kind of miss diving into that nothingness and wasting away hours and hours. I wonder what my life would have been like without it, or if there are some positive things that happened because I played it so much. I think home is where the heart is. And the heart longs, it aches. The soul knows when it’s not aligned. It can range from mild to agony. Just like your average salsas. The soul is just another sauce to dip chips in. Skinny dipping chips sans sea salt. Promising crunch that resounds and echos, rebounding and reverberating in hungover earlobes, stretching high through vaulted ceilings. Casper the Friendly Ghost whispers and shoots through the skylight. Game day, Football, Eating. Shoes off, comfy socks, and sports jersey. Talking with your mouth full.

Author: Roe

she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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