illustration journal

terminal lucidity

as if you stepped sideways into a new life

five times I called for death // “I see you”

I thought I was done with this place

far from the burning light of day


home is where the hurt is, and no one knows how to hurt you like family

even and especially when it doesn’t think it’s trying

home never did feel right // the bonds of family were never light


all those trips back were really just for her,

grandest-of-mothers except to her own, unless they died

every time they’d pick me up from the airport,

she would seem smaller in my arms

shrinking and losing mobility, momentum, direction

losing life a bit at a time, marked by the empty places where we’d embrace and I’d be careful not to hug her too tight

give her my arms so we could walk slowly together to the baggage claim and catch up about nothing


I’m allready tired

and I’m never back again

where is home // without ?


By a w a y l n d x

Artist, aberrant mind

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