This was a self portrait.
Home'Body
My tidy little fuselage,
in which I've journeyed for years.
Miles and weather,
mere existence and beers.
Holding for the most part,
in the ways that it should.
Occasionally it breaks down,
but it usually runs good.
My shallow shell, my costume,
While days fold and unroll.
My first impression, the place I peep,
through a couple good sized holes.
Tattooed by incidences,
scared by ink and imagination.
My favorite place to hideout,
And perform impersonations.
By: Kate Cloud