find your way home, or build a new one

take your pick,
east or west,
or all along the winding route that leads to the edge of your longing,
we might just be double sharp sword handles,
quelling the ring of fire that is eating us from the inside,
or just a couple bastard childs,
looking for the homeward bound happiness that has alluded us in our language,
the railroad spikes shooting up like spines,
the faces we've done left behind,
the cracked concrete skin,
and my flood proof face,
we walk away easy from the things we don't need anymore,
chasing another shore,
under a torrent of soundless heaven