with total confidence

he placed my heart in a box

filled to the brim with formaldehyde

and told me to breathe, to settle in

to take comfort

in my chemical confines

for here was my home

here I would be safe

from myself, mostly

the suffocation and the atrophy

are probably, maybe, temporary

the wild tremors in my memory

will cease to be, possibly

surrender to the immunity

of instinct

sacrifice sensuality for safety

pay no mind to

the far away sound

of lost and founds

these are figments

of an overactive imagination

the hallucinations of

hyper sexuality

a dreamer’s delusions

theres no place like home

theres no place like home

theres no place like….

a. duncan, 2018








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"She would fill endless notebooks with stories about the characters in her life, their impressions, words, friends, lovers, inspirations, fantasies. She spent her days dreaming up worlds where they fit together in visions; the if only, the never again, the someday. Those who knew her best would describe her as a creature with a clear and sometimes painful sense of herself; furious with ideas and convictions, to a point that she frightened love away with discernment and a relentless strength of character."

One thought on “home

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