How do I get back home..?

Lately, I've been so lonely. Not from the absence of someone’s affection, nor from having no one to talk to/ to be with. I'm used to all of that. But I have been ignoring myself, ignoring the chaosity inside, and ignoring my writing. Turning myself inside out, only to have everything stolen under the night… having nothing to share and nothing to reflect on.  Hiding under the covers doesn't help anymore, and all  I think off is finding the horizon to have a start point. I've been turning the other way when my hands and heart are aching to write. Turning up the volume when my thoughts decide to run marathons inside. Just moving forward leaving no tracks behind. Or do I leave some that when I move they disappear?

Everything is kinetic, but I'm just static! I feel that I’ve just lost connection to the part of me that writes. We're just Oceans and galaxies apart. I lost connection to the part of me that loves the moon just for the fact it’s a reminder that time is still trying.  A reminder that still objects can still be moved by hidden forces.

 How do I find my way back?...  Back home.