i'm not sure if the place i am in, is home. each hour, each day, each year. i've become a creature of habit. cigarettes and owl like behavior, i have lost myself somewhere. Along the pages of books? Each collecting dust, pages underlined, annotated. Some characters more important then others. I've learned to be in my bare skin, letting my hands run against the skin of my body, the goosebumps on my breast. Waving my arms in the rolling smoke that passes through my fingers, and stains my skin with an all familiar musk. Let us dance! For I am the love child. I'll wear my three dollar vintage pumps, let my dress reach my knees, and my leather jacket hug my curves. I'm real! I'm here! I'm screaming for a revelation of love.
