The Nomad of Homes

Is it crude? I'm writing this while my soul is nude. I awaken in the warehouse of my workplace. I brush, floss and dodge my boss. Tired of the inquires of how a young man could be so lost. Contemplating costs of my next meal saying I don't love my job because life's made me kneel. I focus on my opportunity, slipping on my work shirt fluidly. I was always a kid of truancy, homelessness isn't knew to me. I could never find my crowd and only follow my own beat. I don't look at my position as a disease, Im just finally learning how to love me.

These monologues rationalize in my head. Like analogue meaningless dialogues spread. comrades playing billiards, some argue about swishers while the tame mention last winter. The new guy walks up and talks about his splinters, just as our shift lead complains how our truck had spilled glitter. I make a comment how I wish it was glass. Gladly getting a chuckle while being called an ass. These workers are like brothers to me. Most come from broken homes or understand absent family. The truck clean, packing supplies ready to leave, I finally open the door to home.

The lead asks me "how far is the house"

I open my GPS and start up our route.

We discuss hot topics, front about clout, consoling ourselves for life's endless spout. The leads from the tropics way down southeast. The new guys a local, jammed up for running his mouth for trees. I'm from a small town with a heroin disease. We all forget ourselves, devolving into stories of this Jobs endless hell.

"My coworker lost his bottom teeth. He's only twenty seven. It happened in front of me. You can't blame him he came from the streets" I quiver

"Did you forget that was me, it was my bottom dentures I got them pulled in the military." The lead spoke clear from his liver

"Alright at least the new guy couldn't hear but he's in a worse situation than us. This is the type of city where you're found smeared."

We shiver I jab about a mountain of rat shit from a client and we both shake. The lead can't forget to mention how we saved Jimi Hendrix's piano from heart break. I throw in that I got a member of One Republic to another state. dissolving into this clean slate. The lead and I approaching a meditative weight. Shooting shit about every tip that got food on our plates. Swearing our mentally unstable workers pull the most weight. Joking about each other. Awakening our new brother as we shamed our deadbeat mothers. A quick nap got him right in place. Though he did immediately ask when we'll pump the breaks. Whipping past a lake our new man forgets his mistakes. our past erased, thoughts collected, for the days embrace. We light up a stogie as to wipe off our face. Getting lost in the drive until the lead stops, blocks the road and calls it a parking space.

Space out another day, sour muscles and a certainly sore brain. Dizziness dehydrated and distorted. Faced against the tides as my bones eroded. I feel my roots grow stronger; will power growing from not wanting to suffer any longer. Finding love in a generic nonmaterial spaces. Filled with enough fate though, to certainly be put in our places. Each other's hearts of course. Tender embrace just beyond these work grind sparks. A bleeding muse to build a studio around me. Letting my luck and curiosity; fill my shelves with everything from lord Byron to our physical nature. Trying to learn all that I can and afford a few acres. Dreaming to suture the world on a business adventure.

I feel now, my own flame. I can finally see in my brains. Im laying in my own home. I see even paths to a throne. Talking to hero's before our time. Learning our infinite wisdom, only hoping she joins my kingdom. Kisses of clarity and the haze of serenity. Ridges to climb whilst fleeing from the wilting flowers of time. It's all just apart of never feeling like mankind. Just feeling the world outside the windows of divines. Chipping away at hope breathing the air of fresh pines.