The tree inside the chalk white bungalow.

The tree inside the chalk white bungalow.

A tree grew through my house the roots literally slithered into the foundation in the chalk white bungalow, the branches stretched out the windows Invasion came home in a different way festering beneath the ground, in the soil; the Earth brewing destruction for years The tree reminds me of the beginning of most downfalls Compromise to the body is never explosive, here, it comes with the breath of the Wind flushing our skin, it will always be mistaken as a time for relief The body, here, is movement The movement, here, is uneasy You did not give me the Ocean when I asked you to with this body the Ocean is tumultuous you cannot balance in a vast sea with no floorboards Unreliable you say: because you do not know where it begins and how it bothers you that it ends at a different place each day I know you are afraid of drowning inside of a person moving to a tide that is not your own the only promise she gives you is flesh the only commitment here is the moon surrendering the sky at dusk forfeiting the vast expanse to the break of day it is at this time you will have that same person again this cycle continues funny how we want to invade things that do not belong to us marking X on this soil does not make it ours, X will be uprooted from the foundation torn apart from the nucleus X will no longer be your home it will return to who it once belonged Zenani Orengo