Homeless...

They say home isn't four walls, a shiny chandelier, Italian stained windows and a Russian nuclear proof door. Home isn't the Global Positioned Spot where the 'Leprechauns' buried that pot of gold for if it was; the queue might out 'Trump' that that graced the bank "First" on those early Nigerian monday mornings.

They say home is where the heart is and by this I don't mean under the bone construct blanketed by muscle and skin. Home is the destination that the heart gears towards. Home is where love dwells, so I asked them; "Where is home when love decides to leave?"
My heart wanders these streets; skirts high revealing just enough to entice onlookers like the girls of Corinth.

My heart strays and my love bleeds out to my home prior like the sands of Persia, flowing in fluctuates of backs and forths, back and forth like the waves that border the sands that side the shores of the beach Elegushi. It washes strongly over the wave breakers, persistently until it floods over my frail being, over and over till it covers my pathetic existence. 

Home is where I could bust off the Kryptonian suit and just be Clark, you helped me part my sea pacific, demagnetize the triangle Bermuda and oasisize the desert Sahara. 

But Home has been torn down and now, I suffocate under the rubble of memory blocks, drown in an ocean of recollection and whilst in the pain, I'll smile. As the water fills my lungs and the bricks push the last of breaths from me, I'll place our book of Memoirs on my chest and bless the day you gave me a Home. 

#Peace
#Pavesiloni 
#Ishoyokpelor