Homecoming

It felt like a homecoming though I've never been there before, a strange comfort I haven't felt in weeks. I was quiet. I was myself. I felt no need to litter my personality avec des petites choses pour sembler plus intéressant que je suis. Car je suis... Khair, a late night ride in a solitary train put me in a more melancholy mood. The train that chugged for me as I lamented for her loss and for my... inability to find... I took flavour pills and concocted elaborate fantasies of Greek getaways in the Scottish Isles and Christmas trees lined with fudge and thin crooked chapatis. In the midst of the mob, I came to my senses and felt a little better until I came home to realize that I've already placed more and more barriers around myself. I promised myself I wouldn't. I think now of the weekend. I've been exiled, forbidden to return although I'd wanted to and I'll walk around wearing socks with holes looking for the tiniest shred of acceptance there where none will be found. I've only worn them a few times but there's already a hole in one. I want to go home to him... mon amour, le seul that I can call that. But slowly, I begin to realize that if I were to go, I'd have to leave home to go home for I have more than one.

A Silence Broken

5 am. Just returned home. No sight of dawn. It's a dark, dark night. The cruel Atlantic wind has subsided, there's an upswing in moods. The city has embraced me and taken me under its wing. Crowds too have diminished and I finally have room to walk which pleases me greatly. A new bonding is occurring - like a rebirth, positive energy. Yet one plague remains... 'twas there, 'tis here. Ah, just fuck it! I'd rather not discuss the bloody subject