19 May 2011
Something about my life traded in a parade of egos and glittering trail of what could be disturbs me. A piece of the pie, tin star in my eyes, reaching for that next branch in the tree. Take time to assess the damage of being me, around me, inside me, and figure out if you come out on top.
I'm closing the door, pulling up anchor and departing golden shores to give this black mist in the distance its due. Without a fucking clue I'll drive all night if it'll only lead me to where I was supposed to be. A little bit of me in encased in words and typography on my screen. A breath I made extends half way across my universe and darker things lurk in shade where it's just a little bit cooler.
A few degrees.
Photo credit: mirabbi from morguefile.com