Home ate my heart out

I find symbolism in the moments
living in train cars and taxicabs
Between here, home and where my heart is
with a night cap, cloak and dagger stabbed
straight into my open chest
paint pictures when I remenisce
of times where all my female friends were angels
now all their wings are clipped
it’s funny how I’m still alone
still holding on to better songs
and better words in better poems
when you used to mouth along.
I’ve been a ghost this year
and my parent’s say come visit
my little brother hates me
’cause he knows I do not miss it
all the shouting in the living room
and holes in corridor walls
that house is black and blue
and it has liquor on it’s breath
it was the death of my childhood
and stands as memorial of dreams
but the best thing to ever come out of it
was me,
still holding on to better songs
and better words in better poems
when you used to mouth along