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home sweet home.

home is not in other people, or legibility in systems, or in success or in failure or identity.

home is not in the drug or the fantasy or the memory.

home is not in the storm or the clear blue sky. it’s who you are when the sky stays white. when you do not know the time or season. in the chapter with no name, in the scene with no score.

the negotiation ends when the other side does not have anything you want. the addiction ends when the reward stops rewarding. home is where you go when you walk away. home is the place you receive. not the place where you make, not the factory and not the forge.

home is where the tower falls and the star rises. it’s where the earth opens up to feed you pomegranate seeds. where chiron, prometheus and sisyphus take their coffee (black) and where cassandra, pandora and eris giggle over tea.

home is a sleep without dreams. where there is no self to make sense of or person to solve. home is where the day can unfold without eroding the shore. where dread loses meaning and love greets exile.

home is not in the carrot and it is not in the stick. home is the one who emerges without either. the one for whom neither would suffice.