TITTLE 11

By thursday i was ready. Regardless of the jitters I needed to get out of the prison that was this home. 

Im not sure what constitutes a home but this is not one;

I needed to write. Just do some work.

I often work and have my best ideas then.

I gathered my pen and notebook.

Gathered while on tip toes

A home not


I put everything in place and sat on the chair that must have been solely for decoration and not the ass of anyone who had a desire to get conforatble.

Worse then being at a guests house.

At theset there I offer to do the dishes as a well mannered man should and am reward with grace in the abode.



I was all but set up when I released I canot turn on a light.

No light in a home that is mine.


MY brother once mentioned he could never have a home as he does not have the natural subtlety to have different lights on as if to scare robbers away during holiday.




I decided to creep out. The hallway was my only escape for a sit to have upright with decent light and the ability to make more than a peep.


I boy was there. A child. Drawing on decent paper with a pencil which he left the clippings on the floor. I usually find the disregard for ones mess a sign of bad character but I was happy to see another soul. Locked out of a home to find peace; a welcomed sight.


“I fumbled; intoxicated; sorry for steeping on your toes”

“I know the tressure that is having somewhere alone


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