Empty Home

No safe zone this is a no trace home. No southern comfort nurture no Gerber. What a predicament? Isn’t it, sickening I’m wishing it wasn’t this different? It’s so hard to stand out when I’m blending in. No safe zone there’s no thrown in this home whoever they said it belongs to is gone. The icy goosebumps creep down my spine hallow halls the secluded fluid drips down the side of the walls. No attachments could do it. no gadgets not even the scent of perfume or shit on the fabric. It’s not a safe space okay? I roam these halls I’ve succumbed to these laws. Ball and chain to the wood grain locks on doors I can see a smear of my reflection on these unpolished floors.

 

 

 

Mac

Hello good people my name is Mac, i am an aspiring writer songwriter, poet and short story writer. In my meditations a couple of years ago i was lost and just trying to find who i was. I fell deeper and deeper into the meditation without any expectation of anything. I just heard and saw the word writer and ever since then i knew this was a path i belonged on. Since then I have perfected my skills as a poet, which turned into working on perfecting my skills at songwriting. Expressing emotions and energy through a poem or a song is one of the most beautiful forms of communication to me. Well anyway i hope you guys keeps up with my journey as i begin my path to freelance writing. -w/ Love, Mac