the sky is always the same
my evenings bleak and deranged
however far I run
it won’t change the shoes I’m in

the creeping grief that I used to see
has turned invisible and followed me
a thousand miles is not enough
to escape my crawling skin

the dark in the hills feels invasive
no kinder than the dark in the city
the cars make no less noise
the winter is no less chilly

the earth and the sky are both heavenly bodies,
and we are just stuck in between
reminded of our mortality
in every place we have been

the grass in my back yard
the grass in the south of france
all sound the same in the wind,
all whisper the same secrets,

the city isnt the monster,
the atmosphere is not alone
I am what holds this feeling
this feeling is my home