through my hair. it does.

and i am unhome again, in a house that is not mine. cinnamon and tea i feel, it rests upon my shoulder, looks for shelter in my head, while suzanne sings forever.

and calling for you, expanding my thought, towards no one but yourself lying on the bottom of a heart that is unbeaten.
in battle.

and love, do come near me tonight, i walk inside your head, i do, searching for a spot where i could take a rest. i could.

and so i live inside my unhome feeling on nights thrown out like this, like a laundry in a garden, while wind goes through my hair. it does.

and sit here and read and maybe often mumble. look up and regain what your read for me, collect your bravest thoughts. and yes.

wipe away desire and put down yourself instead. instead of unhome feelings, tea and how i smile about a balance in my head.