Home Is Where We Trust Our Eyes

Home is where we begin to heal, life is a straitjacket I wish I could just take-off-this-vest because home is the place a comely angel makes her homely nest. Home is where we trust our eyes and shut the window on our stray-cat outside thoughts home is the place we-don't-go prowling to find a saucer of congealed milk or another's rheumatic healing touch of silk. Home is a rainbow, can't-you-understand? There's a poisoned inkwell in my head, running dry writing letters to life outside these four walls, I too, wish, I too, was long dead. Home is an island on a weekend honeymoon it's a gypsum palace somewhere in paradise. Home is where we begin to heal and take off that life's straitjacket home is a rainbow you can't distrust. Home is where we all must trust our eyes.