home is a fruit fly fortress, a slow-cooker cave
we want wild and slow, unplugged connections
there is broth boiling, there are herbs drying
aroma seeps into my dreams
we operate on warmth, avoid burn-out
following our hearts as they lead us homeward, always homeward
homebody hearts and defiant souls ask
Are the streets the only places for struggle?
there is a yearning for more
in the comfort of our fortress we are safe
where is the in between? where care and combat come together?
i dream of warmth from the ashes of this city
and home cooked meals to share