My house my home is many things

people, places, memories

my home is where I do reside

in places usually of my mind

my house my home is real yet not

I curl up with my many things

I am afraid but I’m not small

if I were, I could fit someplace safer

than the space I occupy

I am not small, yet I compare my emotions are bigger than me

almost physical manifestation

reach out, and touch something solid

but pass your hand through something vague

flowers, needles, sunshine, pain

I feel far too many things

in my heart and in my mind

things of concept but not sound mind

I cannot make time for pessimism

unless I were to die of emotion

instead I put myself to sleep each night

shirts and pillows, stuffed animals

each night I make my home myself

but I would like to sleep somewhere

where I am not afraid of every sound

I want to sleep with all my things

to make my house somewhere I’m home