Am I 'Absolute'?

141: One Escapril and a poemm

APRIL/20 Prompt- Hometown (Lonely)

My hometown is well known, somewhere so congested (with people, with animals, with plants, the world) that it smokes anxiety and coughs depression. The phlegm it spits is souls, souls so bruised and digested they don't look real anymore.
My hometown is where anything can inhabit, a place so often spoken it leaves stains in outsiders throats, patterns on their tongues.
The roads take me to places I've been and can't in-feel.
But the views, brief and long, the views are like horizons- untouchable. But fill me with want, the air we can't breathe but need in our lungs.
My hometown is where everyone and everything comes and goes, passing through for a brief or long time, many or few times. The fortunate, or perhaps the unliving, don't live here at all. It's travelled by loss and gain, hopelessness and hope.
My hometown is well known
My hometown is when our souls find the loneliness of our home.

~~~

This isn't a poem for Escapril- April/20

It is an old feeling
One I know more intimately than any other
A feeling my soul has been soaked bathed and wrung out in
It is such an old feeling that the world sighs with it
As often as it sighs with love and fear
Loss
The ineptitude of it fills myself
It's stitched and strung to the framework of my being, my body
Till my marrow is more diluted with the water of it than my own blood
Till colours are more loosely shaded than before it's caress
The certainty of it lies in its uncertainty

I am decorated in the fingernail's scratches of its watery touch
Spirals and twists and sharpness and fullness and aching of loss
So finely robed with its threads of gratitude
That it falls around me in laced dresses
Dripping softly and lacerating down my lashes my palms my chest
Giving anklets glittering chains on my wrists my throat my ankles
I constantly feel the heavy robes the light robes
Grief as sharp and worn old and new deep and shallow as my body
It brings apart at the same time as creating who I know as
Me