I do not want to look and  see him standing there. It is easier just to pretend that I am all alone…but he always wants recognition, which is why he must be seen. Ego                       does not  arrive on a schedule, nor can its silhouette ever furnish an invitation. But that never stops him from gaining access. So I grind and grind until there is nothing left to snack on but fragmented residue. Without a thought still intact, his                                         ways become famished. Bored and impatient, he slowly begins to blur. Still…                     there is a resemblance…just enough to maintain the torment. I must not agree to feed him, yet I grow hungry as well. Somewhere  out beyond there  is renewal, that is where I train my gaze…ready to be swabbed…until the next affliction strays…

You are having one of those moments…that you may not be having. If you are aware that you are having one of those days…then it is most certainly not one of those weeks.  If you are not aware that you are having one of those weeks then you could be having one of those months.  If you could be having one of those months then you need to realize the distinct possibility that you could be having one of those years. Once you realize that you are having one of those years,  then I assure you…you are having one of those moments.

Never turn down the opportunity to catch up with old friends!!!

Along the way your skin feels rough to the touch…thick and hardened like a once wet glove… left alone to dry under the hot blues and burning yellows of a quickening
impatience…all the moisture evaporating…slipping thru the fingers of a fate altering chance…for a purpose in the distance… in a reality long ago. There were instructions for its care… still, you chose not to follow.    We are  always afforded time to acclimate, yet in a moment of inherent honesty…you rushed your panic. With clarity  comes conviction,        just as frenzied hastiness signals a lack of self-belief. But you will be made to sweat again…  this time let the toxins pool in the deep recesses of a colorless, wrinkled abode.      The  surroundings will be predictable, but at least they will be safe.                                             Here  you will rejuvenate, until the  ugliness you have flushed can slowly nourish that             which has made you barren. There is fertility in second chances…for those who like it rough.

I am a tremendous front runner…always showing blazing speed right from the gate.  Out in front is where I belong. There is no kickback when you are in the clear. So, I battle hard to maintain my position. My head is down, my steps are fluid. Out of respect, the wind parts to let me pass. Politely I accept…in hopes that the offer will be made again. Next time it will be needed. But when? I have never been a good judge of distance. I am only bred to go fast, the rest…I leave up to my handlers.   A dangerous concession, regardless of the outcome. So I press on, the smell of fresh clover and damp moss
permeate my quivering nostrils. A brief respite before the true racing will begin. I think back to when I was real…chasing wayward butterflies…kissing the purple sky in a faraway meadow. What was once a burgeoning horizon are now only darkening memories from a former life that suddenly feels like it never actually existed. With what little light is left…
I sheepishly try to force a smile…but the lactic acid overflowing from my lungs stings my mouth until I agree to keep it shut. Punishment for clinging to my identity. Repeatedly,
I am asked to give more, and repeatedly my response is the same…
hesitant insurrection. There are never any allies… only accidental foes lying in wait. The surface that used to feel like a springboard, is now as thick as molasses. My legs that once danced with the breeze, now feel heavy and rigid…my machine like stride shortening
under the weight of expectation. The blur of my surroundings, I no longer recognize.
Clearly, I am far from home. Oh to be back amongst the quiet of my thoughts. The wind grumbles louder now…carrying the rumbles of those who stalk my tracks. There will be no gifts this time…I will have to earn what I am owed. Am I up to the challenge?  Eventually, all of us will be caught… but the finish line is looming…much brighter than I recall. Soon I will be home…on the lead again.