A Black Feather, A poison pen...

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meanderings, the road to the steelyard and back envisioned as a meadow

anymore walking the daily path that i seem to be on is like trying to run through coarse sawgrass and rocks, somewhere an unseen edge will see my ripped skin, some blade of grass, some unseen thorn, some detail i didn't catch in time

i'm just wishing i had some way of figuring these things out -- you know, some better species of foresight.
Yeah, right, who am i kidding? i'm as blind as anyone else if not more so. Awareness is more of a burden sometimes than it is a blessing, but what are my choices, really?
see more than i care to
or
crash into walls

9:23 p.m. - 2003-03-03

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a jump to the left - a step to teh right