May 26, 2011
Sometimes it's all just too much. The routine and its ignorant constraint. The desired abandon - a childlike hunger for the open air and sultry breeze - whose adult consequence puts the rigors of virtue to shame. Second gear that refuses to be found when you are feeling good about yourself. How sometimes you just can't get the day off of you fast enough. Trying to lose your pants and the zipper just doesn't work.
Even the rusted gears of trying to make sense of all of the movement and haling. That, too, gets swallowed into a greater sphere that manifests right around daybreak. The lessons learned are not clean and only define themselves as such by virtue of their shadows cast upon your conscience. A firm, stray thought cast before you in the middle of nowhere. A declaration like a sentence. You alone to decide its fate. Poked and prodded into bona fide epiphany or left on the shoulder like once living road kill. To be carried away or abandoned to rot. A piece of something important now useless even to itself. ~
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