returning home feels the same way pulling rice from your knees does,
there is sea glass hidden under the floorboards beside scattered change and loose tobacco; sand dusting every surface you could feel,
gritty and excessive.
You reclaim coming home because it feels like strong coffee,
strong liquor
there is a shipwreck in your belly, it drags anyone who dares dwell into its depths.
YOU ARE READING
Hysterical letters to my sanity
Poetrya collection of poems inspired by stories I've read, people I've met and paths I've crossed, read and enjoy yourself:)
