Upon my return, they drilled
wires and machinery into
my already bruised skin,
telling me that it’s really
for the best,
that they would be able to
monitor me this way.
As I traveled further from
the place I call home,
(home is whenever
I’m beside you, I must confess)
shrill beeps and flashing lights appeared
and I floundered beneath the smothering
ideas of not remember who I was anymore
(what am I doing here,
I was supposed to wait
for my mother).
Panic over took me.
I gripped the edges of my vision,
but I found no solace in the
hazy illusions behind my closed
eyelids.

The blinking lights rapidly
flash in Morse Code,
and my heart rate slows,
and the message reads:
Come home again
real soon.