Emotionally Homeless

I no longer feel at home in the world.
This life hangs on me like ill-fitting clothes
that tug and bind and make me fidget.
I am a floor-pacer, couch-sleeper, dawn-waker.
I read reviews of movies I will not watch
and faraway restaurants I will never eat in.
Even in this house of skin and bones
I am a stranger just passing through.

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Published by

Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner

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