These residences are just baseboards and street signs Without conversation about common interests. Our spines are torches and our skulls are on fire. But I bruise in the spotlight. The minutes spent, making ghost sounds, keep me up for Days. I'm less relevant when the words resist and I'm strapped To the backseat. For a list of reason beyond my control, I can't stay. But this place on tape keeps me away, like a Roman Empire. I'm on holiday from my hometown.