Leave Home, by Audra Crago
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Leave Home, by Audra Crago

Leave Home, by Audra Crago

 

so you leave home and hope it makes you better. you don’t say goodbye and you don’t keep in touch. there is a simmer amidst your sinew and an itch behind your eyes and you are always climbing out of yourself. you can scratch the surface but you can’t break it, so you press your face to the glass and it’s the closest you’ve come to a deep breath in a long time. 

so you leave home and it works for a while. you sleep on the bus just to see where you wake up and you never stay in one place for long. your clothes reek and your stomach whines but you brush your teeth at the station and you hope it keeps you human. and for once you don’t want to hurt. you want something soft, warmth but not heat. you even believe you can find it. 

but you leave home and the sickness follows. you remember what it was to feel but you can’t quite reach it. the hunger you had is gone but unsatisfied and your hands are always cold, you don’t know if the world itself is trembling or if it’s just you, it always seems to just be you. 

so you come home,