Repetitious Affairs

Homeless

I am comfortably uncomfortable.

All too familiar with the clammy palms

and quivering thoughts that undoubtedly

take over my being and leave me

feeling as bare as a

tortoise without a shell.

This body of mine -

my home since birth -

does not feel like my own anymore.

It has been contaminated with

false love and desire

and I don't feel safe there

anymore.

I have been evicted without a say

and I'm left in a

vacant vessel

which functions like normal

to the unknowing eye.

I have been wandering and searching

for too long -

years I've spent trying to find

a place that is inviting and welcomes

my illuminating flaws with open arms -

but here I lie homeless.

I'm trapped inside a chamber

meant to torture

and I now stay there willingly

knowing that it's a constant

sanctuary to feel my

uncomfortable comfort.

I've been robbed by the devil

who knocked at my door

and was let in as a result of pity -

Because fallen angels also deserve love.

What a foolish thought.

He stole my pride

and independence

and sent me packing with only

the skin on my back.

The creaking door on the way out

was louder than my

screams and pleading.

I have nothing left, and it's been

and eternity of

discomfort

that has quickly become a comfort

recognizable for miles.

My body does not belong to me -

it is no longer a home.

I am uninvited everywhere I go -

even by my own embrace.

I have nowhere to go.

Nowhere.

I am alone.

Homeless.