Trails

More of a prose thingy

Running so fast, I’m losing myself while getting lost , but isn’t that how I go about losing you too?  If the thoughts were a little less linear perhaps the point would be found with a little more confidence but instead of an arrow, a heaping brick of words and thoughts lay , conjoined and straining at the skin. The confidence of keeping is a strange thing but maybe it’s not confidence at all , but the ego of being human.  Selective and fickle reaching for objects of natural selection only to settle for the heard of pickings that comes from the least bit of work. Some while charming lay in wait while the others are much more demanding in their steps, mice falling faint at the doorstep. Those are just the types of despicable you find , but today it’s called amusement..their filth is their gain but isn’t it mine to ? I’m crawling to the end of the universe,  getting a little dirty is part of the trip. I couldn’t call myself more than them with my dirty little collection hobbies, pick me up Tuesday, and I’ll see you next September, if the clouds are strangely aligned we’ll call it negative and make it November. I’m meeting me in you and you’ll never know it , but the irony is a little much to avoid as I’m staring into a hunter’s gaze…though he will never see the wolf in me and if I show it then were nothing more than a pack, out to divide and conquer, chit chat the stories at the meeting points  of the week, but don’t be foul enough to call us friends. The whites of your eyes as you pass us by simply proves I’m not your keeper , but at least with all the bodies in tow , I can say your not mine either…