I’d give it all, just to remain  
where fear is but a phantom pain

The faded echo of despair
Would always fail to reach me there

Through tears I beg and plead with you,
To turn my bleeding eyes unto

The Wood on which His blood has stained
The residue of phantom pains.

tiny twirling yellow leaf
suspended in mid-air,

you bring me down
from
my tirade
about the all the ******* light
from the
neighborhood
houses.

when did so many
become so scared?
or just want to show off
the house
with stupid
landscape lighting?

leaving it on,
all night,
and all day.

3 deer stand up and leap off,
disturbed by our tromping,
bringing a smile to the eye.

walking along,
eyes cast down,
head looks up,
to find a still,
little deer,
looking back.

magical and sweet
chills rise up spine
and heart swells with
wonder.

just for a moment,
no artificial glare.

You might think home is just a house
made of walls and beams.
But for me, home is a place
where you can be yourself.
It is the place of confidence.

Home is the place where you can put
your mask off and show everyone
who you really are.
You are not scared to get judge by
the people around you because
you exactly know that they love
and accept you the way you are.

Home is in our hearts.

So, home is not just place with four walls and a roof on top. Home is a place where i feel safe. Its the place where i feel loved and accepted by my family, friends or lover.

The proximal end of my soul is no longer safe
Decay has dilapidated the space
The raveled fragments fester
Leaves wilting with vinegar burns
Where I have tried to **** the infestation
And found I was only killing myself.

I can remember when my mind was softer, but not safer,
Hiding in the hallway to the den
Watching the scene of the desperate father
pulling his dead son from burned rubble
My child mind imagining
Blooms of orange around my bedposts,
tendrils of cinder and smoke,
Placing my hand against the back of the door
To feel the phantom heat.

And now I hold the matches to my own bed
The quiet comforter can only stifle them for a moment
There is not enough weight to press
These dreams out of myself
Maybe I still crave heat because it is the pain that is also comfort
It is the fear and the foment, the ailment and the aid
It is my body asking for enough feeling
To know it is alive and safe
While my mind is screaming fire
in a crowded
theatre.