Caged

The thrills, chills, and day-to-day drills. Spill. (But only a little.) Flee! Be free...

And so it goes...and goes. This bland extinction, this kingdom of dust. The fading of signal and tone, certain waters washing colors pale and translucent. Are these the golden years? One can only hope not.

Is this not my life too? 2:31 PM 5/8/02, and I am not to be trusted.

A bad day. I look for ways to act. Try to find the best ones. I'm sick in the middle of me. What's respectful? What is self-respectful?

Which way do I go to be good in this warped landscape?

I want to be free, to be out in the open world, the wind curving around me, strong and safe. I want to be vivid and I want to be a real boy. Shall I pray for 2,000 years?

"What has happened?"
"I don't know."

"We are in a cage."